


"THE COLLECTOR"

by EvilAdmin



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cat and Mouse, Erotic Pictures, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Red Herrings, References to rape so avoid if you're easily triggered, Slow Plot Build, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2018-12-23 11:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 61,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11989176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilAdmin/pseuds/EvilAdmin
Summary: Eight people in the city of Baltimore have disappeared without a trace, and the only clue is an erotic postcard left behind at each scene and signed “Casanova.”  The Baltimore Police Department has refused the FBI’s offers of help, but when a ninth person goes missing and the case takes a sudden personal twist, nothing will stop Jack Crawford from going to Baltimore, and he’ll be taking one other person with him, a reluctant teacher with a gift for profiling.  While in Baltimore Will Graham meets an annoying psychiatrist by the name of Dr. Lecter and unwittingly draws the attention of both Casanova and the Chesapeake Ripper.  Can Will survive being in the crosshairs of two equally brilliant apex predators?Note:  I love taking the plot from a movie or book and "Hannibalizing" it.  In this case I've taken the basic plot from James Patterson's "Kiss the Girls" and turned it into an alternative S1 Hannibal AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting you off with two chapters to give you a real feel for the story. I'll be posting chapters regularly so if you like what you read I hope you'll subscribe and follow along with the story of "The Collector." -EA

Casanova looked up through the sun dappled trees as he walked at a leisurely pace through the woods, swinging the black bag he was carrying and whistling merrily.  He paused his whistling briefly and inhaled deeply. The air out here was fresh and clean and laced with the scent of pine and loam.  In Baltimore the August air is hot and humid, but out here in the woods under the shade of the trees everything is at least ten degrees cooler and the colors have the softness of that time just before twilight. There’s bird song in the air, and every now and then he spots a squirrel dashing up a nearby tree, sensing a predator is nearby.  He loves the woods.  Always has.  He’s sure the woman in front of him isn’t enjoying the woods though, with her hands tied behind her back and her bare feet feeling every sharp stone, every branch, and every pine cone she steps on.  He can tell she’s trying to be brave, defiant even, but every now and then she stumbles or gasps in pain as she steps on something particularly sharp, and it’s enough to shake her resolve.  It’s what he had intended when he had removed her shoes and socks before pulling her out of the back of his van. 

He has no real destination in mind as they walk through the woods.  These woods are part of The Patapsco Valley State Park which consists of hundreds of protected wooded acres just a short 15 minute drive outside the Baltimore city limits.  The closest house is at least 20 miles away.  No, he just wants her to keep walking to give her time to think, to let it sink in what’s going to happen to her, that there's a price to pay for her constant defiance. 

He had honored this woman by selecting her to be a part of his collection, and for over four months now she had defied him at every turn.  He had fed her, clothed her, worshiped her body, loved her, but she hadn’t loved him back.  A pity really. 

So, earlier today when she had been especially defiant he had decided it was the last straw and that he had wasted enough of his time and love on her and had drugged her food…and now, here they were.  He could see that the drug was still affecting her coordination a bit.  That was natural.  It was also another way he was putting her at a disadvantage, letting her know that he was in control.  

He heard her breathing change and knew that she was working herself up for something.  Maybe to talk to him; maybe to try and run.  It really didn’t matter; the outcome would be the same either way.  She had used up her last chance and nothing would change what was going to happen at this point.  She suddenly stopped walking.  He stopped too and waited, curious to see what she would do.  Finally she turned around and faced him, a determined look on that stunningly beautiful face. 

She was wearing a white tank top and short jogging shorts, which was suitable for this hot, balmy weather.  His eyes raked over her incredible body.  She had been an avid jogger before he had decided to make her part of his collection, and she had the most incredible legs he had ever seen. 

Finally, gathering her courage, she said, “I know you’re angry with me.  I know I broke the rules.  I’m sorry, okay?  It’s just really hard being locked up all the time.  I’ll try harder, I promise.” 

He cocked his head to the side and pretended to consider this for several seconds.  "I told you the house rules.  More than once, in fact.  Why should I believe things will be different this time if I give you another chance?” he asked in his soft, deep, pleasant voice.   

She licked her lips and he could see that she was wracking her brain trying to come up with something she thought he would want to hear.  It was adorable really, although a wasted effort at this point. 

“Please.  I'm sorry.  I’ll do better. I can be good. I won't be bad anymore,” she said in an almost child-like voice, looking up at him through her lashes.” 

He blinked in surprise as he realized that she was actually trying to seduce him in order to save her life.  And ironic really considering how many times she had told him she’d rather die than have him touch her.  He smiled at her behind the black nylon stocking he always wore over his face when he was with any of his collection, his lips curving and showing through the small slit where his mouth was, a thin strip of red felt stitched around it, giving his mouth a distorted look. 

“Yeah?” he said. 

“Yes.  I swear.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah.  I'll make you happy.”

“How?” he asked.  Let’s see just how far she was willing to go.  She was trembling now, and he could tell by her demeanor that she was terrified.  She must have finally realized that her life was about to end. 

“However you want.  Let me show you how good I can be,” she said, stepping closer to him and looking up at him with dark, pleading eyes. 

Casanova felt a surge of power at those words.  He could order her to do anything he wanted right now and she would do it willingly without question in order to save her life.  If he told her to get down on her knees right now and take him in her mouth and worship him, she would do it.  The thought had him instantly hard.  She had finally, _finally_ learned to swallow her stubborn pride.  Too bad it had come too late. 

“Tell me you love me,” he finally said.  When she looked at him blankly for a couple of seconds he repeated it slower:  “Tell – me – you – love – me.” 

“I love you,” she said woodenly.

“I don't believe you," he said, staring at her calmly.

“No, I do, I love you!” she said with a touch of panic, looking like she’d forgotten that this was all an act to save her life. 

“Of course you do,” he said.  Then he kicked her feet out from under her. 

He looked down at the girl while she desperately struggled to stand back up with her hands tied behind her back and felt himself growing even harder.  He knew he was a tall, well built, good looking man, and with his looks and charm he could pretty much have anyone he wanted, but not in the way he wanted them.  Not like this.  He set the black bag down and pulled out a long length of red cord.  As soon as she saw it, she began to scream, certain about her fate now. 

Thirty minutes later he was moving through the woods heading back towards his van, whistling merrily again.  The girl left behind in the woods was already becoming a distance memory as his mind was racing ahead, excitement coursing through his body in anticipation of his next hunt.  He had already chosen his next target.  She was a young, very smart, very talented ebony-skinned beauty who lived alone and whose violin playing could make angels weep.  He had been watching her on and off now for several weeks.  He loved variety and this young woman was going to be a welcome addition to his collection.  _You’re a lucky, lucky girl, Cassandra Crawford,_ he thought.  _Only the best have the honor_ _of being chosen by Casanova._   


	2. Chapter 2

_One week later …_

Jack Crawford was in his office going over some of the FBI’s unsolved case files.  He had the Chesapeake Ripper case file open on his desk when his cell phone chirped, and he was surprised to see it was his younger brother calling him.  Davin hardly ever called him.  Five minutes later Jack disconnected the call feeling shaken to his core and stared ahead with a stunned, stricken look of disbelief on his face.   Davin had called to let him know that Cassandra—Jack's niece—had gone missing, kidnapped by a man the Baltimore P.D. had dubbed Casanova because he always left a postcard at his crime scenes signed with that name.  Jack had heard his sister-in-law sobbing loudly in the background as he had spoken to Davin.  Jack knew about Casanova.  The man had kidnapped eight others in the Baltimore area over the last seven months.  Jack closed his eyes briefly as he tried to remember everything he knew about Casanova.  How in the world could this have happened?  His niece was a smart girl, a careful girl, and Casanova had been making the news for months, putting the entire city of Baltimore on edge.  Since his niece was attending college in Baltimore, he had called her himself after the third girl was taken and talked to her at length, warning her to be careful and what extra precautions to take.  How had that bastard gotten his hands on her? 

He received several more calls in quick succession from other family members, including Nana Crawford, his feisty 94-year-old grandmother, and they were all as stunned and angry as he was.  Keke, as the family called her, was beloved by the entire family.  She was their pride and joy because she was smart, kind, talented and beautiful.  All the family members who called him wanted the same thing, although Nana Crawford voiced it best when she said, “Git yer black ass down to Baltimore and find our girl!  Don’t you be sitting around waiting for the Baltimore poleese to find her, because they been looking for that man for seven ‘hole months now and got diddly-squat to show for it!” 

And she was right.  Baltimore P.D. wasn’t any closer to catching him as far as he knew.  The problem was that Baltimore P.D. was a topnotch police force with a better than average record of solving crimes.  Their forensics team was considered one of the best in the country, rivaling even the FBI’s.  But that doesn’t mean much when the man you’re after is a ghost who doesn’t leave any evidence. 

He sat there, thinking.  The worry for his niece and the need to do something was making it hard to concentrate.  He drummed his fingers on his desk agitatedly while trying to formulate a plan and keep the fury that was growing inside of him from clouding his thinking while he imagined all the things that animal might be doing to his niece right now.  He picked up the phone and made several phone calls.  Several hours later he was in a small conference room down the hall from his office going over the information the Baltimore P.D. had reluctantly emailed over to him, complete with pictures of all the victims.  He had those pictures pinned up on a board.  He also had a plan.  That plan involved going down to Baltimore himself, and he would be taking one other person with him. 

The FBI had offered their help after Casanova had taken his fourth victim, but Baltimore P.D. had refused, saying they were putting all their resources into the investigation and were confident they would find him.  A subsequent offer after the sixth victim was similarly turned down.  Since Baltimore P.D. wasn’t asking for their help, the FBI had no legal right to take over the investigation.  However, if just two of them went down there, hopefully it wouldn’t be construed as a takeover and they wouldn’t end up in a pissing contest with Baltimore P.D. 

He walked two buildings over to the F.B.I. Academy to speak with a certain teacher there. 

_ F.B.I. Academy _

Jack walked down a corridor toward the lecture hall where he knew Will Graham was currently teaching a class, and he desperately needed this man’s help.  He’d seen Will around Quantico and had actually met him once but didn’t really know him personally.  However, the two people he had spoken to said that Will Graham was the best profiler they knew, and his record seemed to bear that out, and that’s exactly what Jack needed right now was the best.

He quietly entered a side door of the classroom unnoticed by the man in question and stood watching him while he lectured.  Jack looked around at the students in attendance and noticed that many of them, men and women alike, were looking at their teacher with smitten looks, looks that Will Graham was apparently oblivious of as he lectured on, actively avoiding eye contact.  Jack observed the man’s almost innocent, child-like looks which were in direct contrast to the subject of his lecture.  Looking behind Will at the screen he recognized the bloody body of Mrs. Marlow.  He shook his head.  It didn’t matter how frail or child-like Will Graham looked, or what his file showed regarding his psychological testing, he _would_ be getting this man’s help to find his niece. 

The lecture came to a conclusion with Will’s parting words of, “Everyone has thought about killing someone one way or another, be it your own hand or the hand of God. Now think about killing Mrs. Marlow.  Why did she deserve this?  Tell me your design.  Tell me who you are.” 

With that Will closed his laptop, which was apparently a signal that class was over, and the students started filing out as Will packed up his laptop, notes, and other items.  Two attractive females approached him, either to ask a question, or possibly to flirt, Jack couldn’t tell which, but Jack noticed that Will didn’t so much as give them the curtesy of acknowledging them.  They finally walked out of the classroom looking disappointed. 

Once the last student had cleared the room Jack walked toward Will, feeling anxious.  He had a feeling this man was going to be difficult, but he was not taking no for an answer.  As he got closer Jack saw Will look up at him and then immediately put on a pair of black framed glasses.  Jack recognized this as a defense mechanism. 

“I’m Special Agent Jack Crawford.  I head the Behavioral Science Unit.” 

“We’ve met.” 

“Yes, we had a disagreement about the museum when we opened it,” Jack said, grateful for the ice breaker.    

“I disagreed with what you named it.” 

“The Evil Minds Research Museum?” 

“It’s a little hammy, Jack.” 

Jack liked Will’s directness and decided to be direct in return as it would save valuable time.  “You’ve hitched your horse to a teaching post, I see.  I understand it’s not easy for you to be sociable.”

“I’m just talking at them, I’m not listening to them.  It’s not social.” 

Jack gently pushed Will’s glasses up the bridge of his nose so he was forced to make fleeting eye contact.  “Where do you fall on the spectrum?” 

“My horse is hitched to a post closer to Asperger’s and Autistics than narcissists and sociopaths.” 

“But you can empathize with narcissists and sociopaths.” 

“I can empathize with anybody.  Less to do with personality disorders than an active imagination.” 

Jack nodded at that.  That’s exactly what he needed.  “Then, can I borrow your imagination?”

They exited the Academy Building and walked towards the Behavioral Science Building, passing students in various forms of training, from jogging, to shooting, to knife throwing, but Jack noticed that Will kept his eyes downcast, focused on his own little sphere of existence. 

“I won’t beat around the bush, Will,” Jack said, not breaking stride.  “Nine people in Baltimore have been abducted, all within the last seven months. 

“The Casanova case,” Will said, glancing up at Jack briefly.  I thought there were eight.”

“There were.  I just found out about the ninth one earlier today.  What do you know about the Casanova abductions, Will?” 

“Not much,” he admitted.  “With the FBI’s current caseload of killers and psychopaths I have more than enough teaching material for my students, so I don’t really need to go looking into Baltimore P.D.’s cases.” 

“Well, on two separate occasions the FBI offered to help the Baltimore P.D. with the case but they assured us in no uncertain terms that they didn’t need our help; that they were doing everything in their power to catch this guy and using all their resources to figure out who he is, so we didn’t push it.  But things are different now.   The thing is, Will, the ninth victim, this last one taken, is my niece, Cassandra.” 

Will was so surprised that he stopped in his tracks, glancing up at Jack, who stopped as well.  “I’m so sorry, Jack,” he said, making brief eye contact.  So that explained why Will was picking up so much tension rolling off of Jack.  This was more than just a case to him, it was personal. 

“Thank you.  My brother called me this morning stating that he was contacted by the police notifying him that she’s been missing five days.  Can you believe that?  Five days!  Her boyfriend reported her missing after two but he wasn’t taken serious because apparently it’s not unusual for college kids to just take off for a few days without telling anyone.  On the fifth day the police went to her apartment and found Casanova’s signature erotic postcard sitting on her bed.  Then after my brother called me, I was inundated with calls from other family members all saying the same thing:  Don’t leave this to the Baltimore P.D.; get down there and do whatever you have to do to find her yourself.” 

“Jack, you know it’s not a good idea to get involved in a case where a relative is involved.  You’ll be more emotional, more stressed, less focused.” 

“Oh, I’ll be focused all right.  Besides, an order from the President himself won’t stop me from going down there.  But I do need your help.” 

“Why do you need my help?  You have your forensics team.  Surely they would be of more help to you than I would.” 

“The Baltimore P.D. has a topnotch forensics team that rivals our own.  The problem is that Casanova never leaves any forensic evidence.  No, Casanova is one cunning sonofabitch, and my feeling is the way he’s going to be caught isn’t going to be with forensics evidence, but by someone like you who can get inside his head and see something that everyone else is missing.” 

They didn’t talk further as they walked the rest of the way to the Behavioral Science Building, each deep in their own thoughts.  They took an elevator up to Jack’s floor where he led Will to the conference room where he had all the evidence Baltimore P.D. had sent over, including pictures of all the kidnap victims that were tacked on a board with their stats below them. 

“Where did you get all this so fast?” Will asked. 

“I called Baltimore P.D. and spoke with a Sergeant Brown, asked him to email me what they had on the Casanova’s victims.  I had to pretty much threaten him to get the stuff to me right away.  He wanted to get it to me in a couple of days.  Can you believe that?” 

Looking at all the papers scattered all over the conference room table Will could see this had been no small task.  He kept his opinion to himself though. 

Will let out a whistle as he scanned the pictures.  “Wow,” he said.  “Well there’s certainly no faulting his taste.”                       

[](http://imgbox.com/L5zAlYFa) [](http://imgbox.com/1dM9Iikz) [](http://imgbox.com/HQyBchQO) [](http://imgbox.com/wWjrNuBX) [](http://imgbox.com/tmeqcnF3) [](http://imgbox.com/uFYayxZJ) [](http://imgbox.com/O6fpNA5n) [](http://imgbox.com/JBKJTXT6) [](http://imgbox.com/wPgBaOWt)

Besides the fact that every one of them was extraordinarily beautiful, he could see that Casanova liked variety.  There were four white women, two black women, one oriental woman, one Hispanic woman, and even one man. 

“You’re calling them abductions because there haven’t been any bodies?” Will asked.  

“No bodies, no parts of bodies, nothing that comes out of bodies. Nothing.” 

Will scanned the pictures again, this time reading their profiles.  The first one taken seven months ago was Dr. Bethany Silversmith, age 29.  She graduated three years ago from John Hopkins University and was working in the pediatric oncology department at John Hopkins Hospital.  Second taken was Alana Bloom, age 31.  She also graduated from John Hopkins and now had her own private psychiatric practice.  Third was Akilah Jackson, age 22, a third year law major at Loyola University Maryland in Baltimore.  Fourth was Abigail Hobbs, age 19, first year student at John Hopkins studying to be a veterinarian.  Fifth was Kelli Ferguson, age 21, second year business major at Towson University in Baltimore.  Sixth, Donna Chin, age 24, fourth year student studying forensic science at University of Maryland in Baltimore.  Seventh, Rosita Santiago, age 26, graduated from Goucher College two years ago and had recently been promoted to vice president of a well-known architectural firm.  Will took a little more time studying the eighth victim, Chandler Dorsey, age 22 and the only male.  Chandler had been a third year chemical and biomolecular engineering student at Notre Dame in Baltimore.  The fact that there was a man among the mix made him feel inexplicably uneasy.  And then lastly was Jack’s niece, Cassandra Crawford, age 23, a fourth year music major at John Hopkins Peabody Conservatory in Baltimore.  Will shook his head. 

“Talk to me, Will.  Tell me what you see.” 

“Well, it’s obvious Casanova likes beauty, he likes variety, he likes intelligence, and my guess is he likes strength of character.  First impression with the limited information I have, this guy’s a collector, Jack, and he’s very choosey about who he takes.  He’s collecting ones he feels are extraordinary, and my guess is the reason for that is because he thinks he’s extraordinary, too.” 

“So you think he’s collecting them?  You don’t think he’s taking them and killing them and burying the bodies somewhere and they just haven’t been found yet?” 

“My guess would be no.  It would have taken this guy a long time to study, cull through and select these particular exceptional individuals and then plan and pull off the abductions.  He would have had to put in quite a bit of time watching them and learning their routines in order to abduct them all so cleanly.  I’m guessing he has them stashed somewhere private where he can look at them and…play with them.”      

Jack looked grim but nodded, looking somewhat relieved at what Will said. 

“We have ages ranging from 19 to 31,” Will added, “different nationalities, six in school, three working, a man thrown into the mix.  Was Casanova—the real one, I mean—was he bisexual?” 

“I actually googled that myself, and to my surprise, he was.” 

“Hmm.  He waited till the eighth victim to take a man.  I wonder if he decided to experiment at that point.  Do we know if Chandler is gay?” 

“Uh…” Jack dug through the paperwork until he found Chandler’s information sheet and quickly scanned it.  “No.  According to this the police interviewed his ‘live-in girlfriend.’  So not gay.” 

“It’s amazing that this guy has struck nine times in the same city, and even with the city on high alert the Baltimore P.D. isn’t any closer to catching him.  This guy is smart and careful and he’s never impulsive.  He’s going to be extremely hard to identify, Jack.” 

“That’s why I need you.” 

“You have Heimlich at Harvard and Douglas at University of Chicago.  They do the same thing I do.” 

“That’s not really true, is it?  You have a specific way of thinking.”

“Has there been a lot of discussion about the specific way I think?”

“You make jumps you don’t explain.”

“No, the evidence explains.”

“Then go down to Baltimore with me and help me find some evidence.”  Seeing Will’s indecision Jack said, “Do you know that Keke—that’s what the family calls Cassandra—is currently being courted by the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra?  They want her as soon as she graduates, she’s that good.” 

“What instrument does she play?” Will asked, studying her picture. 

“The violin.  She was a natural from the moment she first picked one up,” he said proudly, voice choking a bit.  Listen, Will, I need you to go to Baltimore with me.  I can order it, but I’d rather you volunteer to help me.” 

Will studied the beautiful faces on the wall, so young, so gifted, their entire lives ahead of them.  Some man was out there essentially stealing their lives and getting away with it.  He shook his head yet again.  “I have a really bad feeling about this case,” he said. 

“Yeah, you and me both.  And us going down there unasked by Baltimore P.D. and basically barging in on their investigation and stepping on toes isn’t going to win us any friends.  This case is already ugly and it’s going to get uglier.  But I need you with me on this one.” 

Finally Will sighed and said, “That may require me to be sociable.” 

Jack smiled and nodded.  He had him and that’s all that mattered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter Jack and Will go down to Baltimore where they receive a less than warm welcome, and Will meets a very annoying psychiatrist by the name of Dr. Lecter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erotic postcard alert.

Will went home and packed a few clothes and arranged for a neighbor to take care of his dogs while he was away, and he was back at FBI headquarters at 9:00 a.m. sharp the next morning only to find Jack already in the parking lot pacing and waiting for him.   Will saw the tense lines around his eyes and mouth and figured he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night.  He transferred his bag into Jack’s black Toyota Land Cruiser and they set out. 

It was only an hour-and-thirty minute drive to Baltimore and Jack spent most of that time on the phone with either the office, or with relatives who seemed to need reassuring that he was indeed on his way to Baltimore.  Will took the time to read over the information in the file that Jack had brought along.  There wasn’t a whole lot to read about in the way of physical evidence.  Nine kidnappings and the only thing Casanova had left behind were the erotic postcards that were probably left as a calling card of sorts.  Will studied a copy of the postcard that Casanova had left in Cassandra's bedroom. 

[](http://imgbox.com/3s7zvGQI)

All the postcards seemed to walk a fine line between being visually beautiful and slightly disturbing.  He looked at a copy of the handwritten message next from the back of the postcard. 

 

_My success and my misfortunes, the bright and the dark days I have gone through,_

_everything has proved to me that in this world, either physical or moral,_

_good comes out of evil just as well as evil comes out of good._

_\- Casanova_

 

The handwriting was nice, elegant even, but he had studied handwriting analysis and knew that the straight horizontal movement, combined with the rigidity of the writing revealed Casanova’s need to dominate and control others.  

The postcards themselves seemed to be a mixture of vintage and newer, and there was no telling where he had gotten them.  For all Will knew he could have ordered them on eBay.  Hell, you can find just about anything you want on eBay nowadays and have it delivered right to your front door.  Of course there had been no fingerprints on any of the postcards.  The ink he used to write with was from a pen you could buy at any local drug store, supermarket, or office supply store. 

Will typed the handwritten message from the postcard into his laptop and got a hit.  The message was an actual quote from the real Casanova back in the late 1800s … as were all the handwritten messages on all the postcards he soon found out as he googled every one.  Will shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck.  So, Casanova was just repeating things his namesake had said, not really offering any peeks into the inner workings of his own mind to give Will a sense of who he is.  Will didn’t know how he was going to be of any help on this case.  As he had told Jack, “the evidence explains,” but there essentially was no evidence. 

Will shut the paper file and his laptop and put his head back and closed his tired eyes and let the information he had read move around in his head, waiting for connections and associations to come.  After five minutes he opened his eyes in frustration.  The only impressions he was getting was of a man-like shape that was vague, dark and shadowy, its true form hidden from view, seeing but not being seen.  Will strongly suspected that Casanova is a specter, a phantom, someone who hides in plain sight, a master of disguise.  No one who sees him would ever suspect him of being who or what he truly is.  The fact that the Baltimore P.D., in concert with the entire city of Baltimore, had been on the lookout for any clue as to Casanova’s identity for seven months and were still no closer to catching him was clearly proof of that.  

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at Baltimore Police Headquarters and Will trailed Jack inside.  Jack went up to a desk with a name plate on it that said Sergeant Matthew Brown, and said, “Good morning, Sergeant.  I’m Jack Crawford from the FBI.  I'd like to see Chief Hatfield, please.” 

“Ahhhh, Jack Crawford from the F…B…I,” Sergeant Brown drawled out, leaning back in his chair and giving them both a lazy once over.  “Yes, we spoke on the phone yesterday.  A memorable conversation.  I guess you’re down here now so you can show us all how it’s done.  You’ll no doubt have Casanova in custody by the end of the day,” Sergeant Brown said, cocking his head and looking challengingly at Jack.  “Should I maybe order a cake and some streamers so we can celebrate later on?” he said mockingly.  “Maybe call for a press conference this afternoon?  Will 3:00 give you enough time to catch him?” he said, leaning forward on his elbows now with his eyebrows raised in question.    

Uh-oh, Will thought.  This is the Sergeant Brown that Jack spoke to yesterday and bullied into emailing over all that information on Casanova right away.  The sergeant was clearly not happy.  Will looked over at Jack and saw him getting red in the face.  _Shit._   “Hello,” Will cut in, putting out his hand for a handshake and forcing himself to smile and make eye contact.  “I’m Will Graham.  I take it you’re the sergeant who put all that information together and got it to us so fast.  That was incredible, really.  I don’t know how you did it, but you have no idea how helpful it was to have that information to look over before we arrived.  Right, Jack?” 

“Oh, right,” Jack mumbled.  “Thank you for that, Sergeant,” Jack said, calming down.    

Sergeant Brown still looked a little grumpy as he shook Will’s hand, but Will thought he looked pleased now as well.  Sometimes people just needed to hear that you appreciate the extra effort they put in, something Jack really needed to work on.  He was sure Sergeant Brown had spent a great deal of time getting that information emailed over to Jack, and apparently Jack hadn’t even acknowledged it.  Jack was too focused on his niece instead of on the case as a whole, his thoughts clouded with emotion.  Will wondered how many other fires like this one he was going to have to put out where Jack was concerned.   

“I’m afraid you missed him,” Sergeant Brown said, looking more relaxed now.  “He got called away about an hour ago on a body that was found in the woods right outside of Baltimore.  He’s probably going to be gone a while, but if you leave me your number I’ll be sure to have him call you just as soon as he gets back,” he said.    

The mention of a body had Jack visibly tensing. 

“Can you tell me if this has anything to do with the Casanova case?” Jack asked, and Will could actually feel Jack’s tension increasing.      

“I’m afraid that’s all I know.  Would you like to leave your number with me?” 

“We’ll wait,” Jack said tersely, turning and heading for the waiting area.  Will gave the sergeant an apologetic smile and followed Jack and had a seat while Jack nervously paced, obviously worried that this body might turn out to be his niece even though there was nothing to indicate that Casanova was a killer. 

Baltimore P.D. headquarters was housed in a large, older brick building with a lot of open space and a steady stream of traffic constantly going in and out.  Will didn’t mind people-watching, but Jack’s constant pacing kept crossing his field of vision, and after about 15 minutes of it Will excused himself and went to use the facilities.  He needed to get away from Jack and the constant bombardment of anxiety and just be alone for a few minutes and splash some cool water on his face. 

After about five minutes when he was feeling a little calmer, he stepped out of the restroom and looked around, spotting a room with glass walls where he saw pictures of the Casanova victims.  This must be where they kept all their information on the Casanova case.  There was no one in there, or nearby for that matter, so he walked into the room looking for anything different that he could add to what he already knew.  The sooner they solved this case the sooner he could get back home to the peace and tranquility of Wolf Trap. 

A long white board was arranged with the same pictures Jack had put up in the conference room back at the FBI.  There was a large map of Baltimore with red pins stuck in it, indicating where the victims were taken from.  Another board sitting off to the side on an easel had what looked to be pictures of suspects that were being looked into.  Now these he hadn’t seen.  He was deep in thought studying those pictures and the accompanying notes when a deep voice behind him said, “Just who the hell are you and what are you doing in here!” 

He startled so badly he almost knocked the board over.  He turned around, eyes wide, heart racing, to find two men looking at him.  They were both taller than him by several inches and they were wearing regular clothes, not police uniforms.  One of them was glaring at him, and he could actually feel the aggression pouring off that one.  The other one was looking at him in a calm, more thoughtful way.  Will licked his lips nervously and said, “I’m Will Graham.  I'm with the FBI.  I’m here with Jack Crawford to, uh, offer assistance on the Casanova case.  I saw this room and I was just looking over the information in here.” 

“You’re with the FBI?” the friendlier one said looking him up and down like this might be a joke. 

“You shouldn’t be in here without permission,” the glaring one said. 

“I’m sorry.  And, yes, I’m with the FBI.  Special investigator.  I’m a profiler,” he added. 

“A profiler, huh?” the friendlier one said.  “This should be interesting,” he muttered, as he and his partner exchanged looks.  “Well, I’m Detective Anthony Dimmond, and this is my partner, Detective Frances Dolarhyde.  We’re both detectives assigned to the Casanova case, he said, extending his hand to shake Will’s.  

Detective Dimmond had a slight southern accent that Will found comforting.  He took the man’s hand and shook it, wishing he could have wiped his hand off first because it was a bit clammy.  Will went to shake Detective Dolarhyde’s hand, but the big man just crossed his arms over his barrel chest and scowled at him.  When Will looked over at Detective Dimmond, he was just smiling. 

Must be good cop/bad cop, Will thought.  Jesus, why had he let Jack talk him into this? 

“Um, I should be getting back to Jack,” Will said quietly, looking at their chins. 

“Actually,” Detective Dimmond said, “Sergeant Brown told us the FBI was here and we were just going to look for Agent Crawford, so lead the way.” 

Will led them back to the waiting room where he noticed Jack talking to a stranger.  Despite the ninety degree August heat, this man looked cool as a cucumber wearing a tailored honey brown three piece suit crossed with blocks of pale blue that matched the crisp pale blue shirt underneath.  Completing the outfit was a deep blue paisley tie and matching pocket handkerchief, and shoes that were buffed to such a shine that Will imagined he could probably see his reflection in them.       

“You must be Jack Crawford,” Anthony said, approaching Jack and holding out his hand.  “I’m Detective Dimmond and this is my partner, Detective Dolarhyde.  We’re two of the detectives working the Casanova case.  I see you’ve met Dr. Lecter.  Dr. Lecter is a noted psychiatrist and is _our_ profiler,” Anthony said, smiling and looking at Will pointedly.  “He’s actually a friend of one of the kidnapped victims and volunteered to help us with a psychological profile.” 

“Agent Graham,” Dr. Lecter said, nodding and putting his hand out to shake. 

As discretely as he could Will wiped his hand on his pants before taking the other man’s hand, which of course was warm and dry.  Will’s eyes flicked up briefly to the man’s face.  Jesus, those cheekbones belonged on a GQ model, and Will was annoyed to see that not a hair of that burnished gold hair was out of place.  As he let go of Dr. Lecter's hand he unconsciously ran his fingers through the side of his own unruly curls which hadn’t seen a pair of scissors for probably six months now.  He noticed Dr. Lecter tracking the motion, dark eyes crinkling in amusement, and he dropped his hand immediately.  Will seethed with embarrassment as he imagined how he must look with his shirt sticking to his sweaty body, his rumpled khakis, and his untamed curls compared to the immaculate, professional looking Dr. Lecter.      

“Chief Hatfield just called us and told us to get out to a crime scene,” Detective Dimmond said to Jack.  “Sergeant Brown said you two are looking to speak to him, so you can follow us out there if you want.”    

“Do you know if it’s one of Casanova’s victims?” Jack asked in a tight voice. 

“Might be,” Detective Dimmond answered.  “The chief didn’t give us a lot of details, just said to get out there on the double, so I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” he said with an easy smile. 

“Lead the way then,” Jack said tensely, already heading for the door. 

As soon as they were outside Jack went over to Will and whispered, “Listen, I’m going to hitch a ride with these two, see if I can get them talking about the case.  You follow behind,” he said, handing Will the keys. 

As Jack headed off behind Detectives Dimmond and Dolarhyde to their car, Will took a deep, relieved breath as he headed for Jack’s car, grateful that he would have a little time alone … that is until he noticed that Dr. Lecter had fallen into step beside him. 

“Uh, shouldn’t you be riding with the two detectives?” Will asked. 

“I probably should, but I’ve spent time with them and find their company rather disagreeable, especially Detective Dolarhyde.  I hope I’m not intruding, but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind if I rode with you to the crime scene.” 

The last thing Will wanted was to be alone with Mr. Fancy Pants, but since he couldn’t think of a nice way of saying no he just shrugged.  He was also pissed.  If a quote “noted psychiatrist” was already working the case and acting as profiler, there had been no need for Jack to drag him down here.  With the extreme lack of evidence, a psychiatrist might actually have a better shot of at least figuring out the workings of Casanova’s mind and what makes him tick. 

As they got in the car and fell in behind the detectives’ car, Will could feel Dr. Lecter looking at him, could practically hear the wheels turning in that analytical head of his.  Great.  Just great.  Finally when Will could stand it no longer and was about to say something, the other man spoke first.  “Are you the same Will Graham who wrote the standard monograph on time of death by insect activity?” 

Will was momentarily speechless.  He hadn’t expected that.  Finally, glancing over at the man and making brief eye contact he said, “Yes.  You mean to say you actually read that?” 

“I did, and I found it both informative and well written."  

"Why would a psychiatrist even feel the need to read something like that?" Will asked.  

"You will find that I am interested in a wide range of subjects,” he said smiling.  “I like to broaden my horizons whenever and however I can.  For instance, I am learning quite a lot from the police regarding their investigative techniques and I am equally eager to observe the FBI’s methods, to get a peek behind the veil, as it were,” he said, watching Will closely. 

Will looked away.  He could still feel the man’s eyes on him studying him, analyzing him.  To break the awkward silence he said, “So, which one do you know?” 

“Of the kidnap victims, you mean?  That would be Alana Bloom.  I taught a course one semester many years ago at John Hopkins and Alana was in my class back then.  Most psychology classes are filled with personality deficients but Alana Bloom was the exception.  She was a brilliant student, constantly challenging me.  As you probably know, she has her own practice now.  We met again at a psychiatric convention after she graduated and became close friends.”  

Will nodded.  He made a mental note to check into Dr. Lecter, see if there was any other kind of relationship between him and Alana Bloom.  This wouldn’t be the first time a criminal had offered to help the authorities with their own crime, essentially basking in their prowess and laughing at the police behind their backs.  Dr. Lecter was intelligent and looked physically strong, so it wouldn’t hurt to check him out.   

“Have you done a profile on Casanova yet, Dr. Lecter?” 

“A preliminary one based on the facts that were made available to me, which isn’t a great deal as you probably know.” 

“So, what kind of person do you think we’re dealing with?” 

“I imagine him to be in his thirties or forties, possessing real physical strength combined with an older man's self-control. He would need both for what he does.  He's cautious, precise, and he's never impulsive.  He's someone who blends into the community seamlessly.  After the third victim was taken the city has been tense and vigilant, and yet there have still been no viable tips or leads.  The police haven’t come close to catching him.  I believe that the kidnappings are sexually motivated based on his chosen name and the erotic postcards that he leaves at the scene of each abduction, and that he is probably driven by the same obsessive sexual fantasies that he has had since he was a boy.  He could have been the victim of abuse, maybe incest.  He may have been a Peeping Tom, a rapist, or a date rapist.  Now he’s a very fancy collector of extraordinary ones.  I imagine he researches them thoroughly, follows them around, and learns their routines before he strikes.  He is most likely lonely and may be looking for his perception of perfection. And I'm also fairly certain that he’s enjoying the fact that he has the police stumped with his perfect crimes, and strongly suspect that he will be intrigued and flattered by the fact that the FBI is now involved.” 

Will frowned at that.  He didn’t like the idea that Casanova might be intrigued by their involvement.  He didn’t want him “showing off” for them.  He considered the rest of what Dr. Lecter had said.  “If he blends into the community he’ll be hard to identify.  That might indicate he’s someone people naturally trust, like a cop, a priest, or a teacher.  So if this crime scene we’re going to does turn out to be one of his victims, let’s just hope that he’s slipped up and left a clue; otherwise finding him is going to be like finding a needle in a haystack.  I assume Baltimore P.D. is already looking into anyone accused of rape or attempted rape in the last 15 years.” 

“They are.  But there is no way of knowing if Casanova has even lived here his entire life. He could have committed crimes in another state or states and moved here shortly before the abductions began.  I know the police currently have 20 suspects under surveillance.  Among them are assorted deviants, but there are also university professors, doctors, and even a retired cop in Bethesda.  Because of the meticulous nature of the crimes, all area policemen have been checked out as well.” 

Will nodded and rubbed a weary hand over his stubbled cheek.  He hadn’t slept well last night and he was tired.  “Then I guess it’s time to start thinking outside the box and making some leaps.  I was hoping this would be a quick case, but this is the kind of case that can drag on for a long time if Casanova is especially cunning.” 

“Oh, I can guarantee he’s cunning.  He doesn’t make a move that’s not meticulously planned out.  I’m eager to observe your method of profiling,” Dr. Lecter said smiling. 

Will avoided glancing over at him, feeling uncomfortable now.  “It’s usually something I do by myself.  It takes quiet and concentration,” he added, hoping Dr. Lecter would take the hint. 

“You’re not fond of eye contact, are you?”   

“Eyes are distracting,” Will said, watching the road.  “You see too much.  You don’t see enough.  And it’s really hard to focus when you’re thinking ‘those whites are really white’ or ‘they must have hepatitis,’ or ‘is that a burst vein?’  So I try to avoid eyes whenever possible.” 

“Agent Crawford mentioned your empathy.  I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams.  No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love.” 

Will did glance over at Dr. Lecter now in shock, feeling his anger rising.  “Well, it seems like you and Jack had quite a conversation the short time I was away.  May I remind you that I am not a suspect here and there is no reason to profile me.” 

“I’m sorry, Will.  Observing is what we do.  I can’t shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off.” 

“Please don’t psychoanalyze me,” Will said testily.  “You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.”  Fortunately they pulled over onto the side of the road behind the detectives’ car at that point.  Will turned off the engine and looked at Dr. Lecter now.  “Just keep it professional.” 

“Or we could socialize, like adults.  God forbid we become friendly.”

“I don’t find you that interesting,” Will said coolly, jumping out of the car and slamming the door, heading toward Jack, leaving Hannibal behind. 

“You will,” Hannibal said to himself, his eyes following Will with equal parts curiosity and fascination. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the best! Here’s a new chapter that I hope you’ll enjoy. Everyone have a safe and wonderful weekend. -EA

They were a short distance outside of Baltimore in a rural area with nothing but woods as far as the eye could see on either side of a two-way road.  Will caught up with Jack and Detectives Dimmond and Dolarhyde and glanced behind him and saw Dr. Lecter trailing a short distance behind him.  Will smiled as he imagined what those shiny shoes of his were going to look after a hike through the woods. 

They were all following a young officer who was leading them through the woods to the crime scene.  Will was enjoying the walk.  These woods were beautiful and peaceful, and the air smelled like pine and cedar.  Even though he knew there was a body at the end of this particular trek, he found himself relaxing a bit.  After five minutes of walking through some pretty dense areas, though, he grew curious.  “How did anyone even find the body way out here?” he asked out loud.   

“It was just a fluke really,” the young officer said, looking back at Will.  “A group of boy scouts and their scout leader were doing a nature hike through the woods and heard an abnormal number of crows cawing and spotted them flying over one particular area, so they went to investigate and found the crows feasting on the body.  This land here is part of the Patapsco Valley State Park which consists of hundreds of wooded acres, so it really was just luck that the body was found.” 

After five more minutes of hiking through the woods, Will spotted activity and police tape cordoning off an area straight ahead. 

As they approached the police tape Detective Dimmond said, “There’s Chief Hadley up ahead.  You two wait here while I get him,” he said, slipping under the tape, the ever silent Detective Dolarhyde following in his wake.    

Will observed the man he had already picked out to be the chief even before Detective Dimmond reached him.  He was a short, portly man with thinning hair who looked to be around the same age as Jack, and he was shouting out orders like a major in the army while people scattered to do his bidding.  Will watched as Detective Dimmond approached him and said something to him while pointing back at them.  Chief Hadley looked over at them and did not look happy to see them, but after giving the two detectives some instructions, he walked over to greet them nonetheless. 

“You must be Jack Crawford,” he said, extending his hand to Jack.  “Sorry to meet under these circumstances, but as you can see you’ve caught us at a bad time.  Don’t know why the FBI felt the need to come down here.” 

“It’s widely thought that a fresh pair of eyes can often pick up on details that may have been overlooked by those closest to a given situation,” Hannibal spoke up, suddenly appearing next to Will.   

“Well, be that as it may, we’re putting all of our manpower and resources into finding this guy, as you can see for yourself,” the chief said looking at Jack with a touch of resentment, indicating at least 20 people scouring the area looking for clues and taking pictures.   

Jack stiffened visibly at the chief’s words.  “So, do I take that to mean that this body is one of Casanova’s victims?” Jack asked, and Will could tell he was struggling to maintain his professional demeanor. 

“Yes, it would appear so,” the chief sighed, looking upset.  The coroner estimates she’s been dead four or five days, but due to the heat, combined with the fact that the birds and animals have been nibbling on the body, it’s in pretty bad shape.  I was hoping we would eventually catch this guy and find his victims alive, but with one dead we have to consider the possibility that he’s been killing them all along and we just haven’t found the bodies yet.” 

Will actually cringed at the chief’s lack of tact and looked over at Jack.   Will didn’t know if Chief Hatfield was so preoccupied that he forgot he was actually speaking to one of the victim’s relatives, or if he was just an insensitive jackass. 

“Which one is it?” Jack asked, deceptively calm, and Will could tell he was bracing himself for the worst. 

Chief Hadley finally seemed to realize what Jack was asking.  “Oh…right!  A black female.  Not your niece!” he added quickly.  “The third gal taken.  What was her name?” the chief said to himself, snapping his fingers. 

“Akilah Jackson,” Will said quietly, “the 22-year-old law major from Loyola.”  Will wondered how the chief could not remember the names of the victims after working the case for seven months. 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” the chief said. 

Will saw Jack exhale a shaky break, sweat trickling down from his hairline.  He looked like he needed to sit down, but regained his composure quickly.  “When can we examine the body?” he asked. 

The chief shrugged and said, “The forensics team is still examining the body and checking the area immediately surrounding it, making sure we don't miss anything.  We have people checking the outlying area looking for footprints, broken branches, cigarette butts…anything that might tell us the direction they came from.  So as soon as forensics and Detectives Dolarhyde and Dimmond are finished with their examination, you boys can go right on ahead.  The coroner’s chomping at the bit to remove the body.  Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me.” 

As soon as the chief walked away Jack rounded on Will and said in a harsh whisper, “I thought you said he was collecting them!  This isn’t collecting, this is killing,” he said accusingly, and Will took an involuntary step back as the force of Jack’s anger shook his mental barriers.  “They could all be out in these woods somewhere tied to trees.  My niece could be out there somewhere right now tied to a tree,” he said, running a slightly shaky hand through his short, sweaty hair.   

Will knew Jack’s anger was out of concern for his niece so he kept his voice neutral when he said, “Let’s just examine the body first and see what it tells us.” 

Jack predictably started pacing while they waited.  Will looked over at Dr. Lecter and saw that he was just standing calmly, watching the activity going on around the body.  Well, at least he didn’t appear to be squeamish, which was good.  Will walked up to him and said, “Shouldn’t you be examining the body with the detectives, giving them your thoughts?  I was given to understand that you’re their profiler.” 

“It’s a bit crowded around the body at the moment and I don’t want to get in the way.  I thought I would just wait and examine the body with you and Agent Crawford.  I would enjoy hearing your thoughts and comparing them with my own.” 

Will’s eyes flicked up briefly from Dr. Lecter’s tie to his eyes, and then back again.  “I’m just going to go find a nice shady tree to sit under while we wait our turn,” he said sighing, and walked off without a backward glance. 

Fifteen minutes later forensics and the two detectives walked away, having finished their examination, and Jack, Will, and Dr. Lecter ducked under the tape and headed toward the body. 

They circled the tree the girl was tied to, examining it from all angles.  It was in bad shape, like the chief had said.  Being outside helped diffuse the odor of decay, but it was still thick in the air.  Will was a bit surprised that Dr. Lecter didn’t seem to having a problem with the sight of the body or the smell. 

Akilah Jackson was naked and her hair had been cut off, a few of the long braids on the gtround next to her, the others no doubt having been blown away by the wind or carried off by birds or other animals.  They knelt down and examined the knot tying her hands behind the tree. 

“I love to fish and I’ve worked on boats so I’m familiar with a lot of different types of knots, but I’ve never seen one like this before,” Will said frowning. 

“It’s called a Cat's Paw knot,” Hannibal said.  It’s a type of knot common in bondage.  The jute cord he used to tie her up is also common in bondage, although he may have dyed it himself to achieve that deep red color.” 

Will blinked at Hannibal in surprise.  “Bondage?” 

“Yes, Will, bondage.  Bondage is a way of exerting power over a person by physically restraining them.  For sexual gratification,” he clarified, looking at Will. 

“I know what bondage is, Dr. Lecter,” Will said, his cheeks and ears pinkening as he examined the knot more closely now.  “But how it is that you know what kind of knot it is?” he asked curiously.

“As I told you before, Will, I’m interested in a wide range of subjects,” Dr. Lecter said, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly. 

It was an ambiguous answer that had Will wondering whether Dr. Lecter meant he had seen the knot pictured in a book, or that he had actually tied one himself while engaging in the act.  He shook his head to stop that unsettling thought from going any farther. 

Standing back up, Will walked around to the front of the body and looked it over carefully.  “I don’t see any signs of a fatal wound or strangulation.  Unless I’m missing something here it would appear that Casanova tied her to the tree alive and just left her here to die.”   

“Why did he cut off her hair?” Jack asked.  “I mean, if he did tie her to the tree with the intention of leaving her here to die, what was the point of cutting off her hair?” 

“A person's hair comes to symbolize honor, social status, and otherwise serves as a human peacock tail,” Dr. Lecter answered, “representing a life rather than a fashion statement.  Thus, having it forcibly cut off isn't just a minor fashion faux pas, but akin to rape and is likened to having your life stolen from you. From another view, a forced haircut serves as a symbolic initiation of worse things to come.  It’s just another way Casanova added to his victim’s terror.” 

“Why do _you_ think he killed her?” Will asked, wanting to hear Dr. Lecter’s take on this. 

“I think it’s possible she either angered him or broke his rules, ruined the fantasy du jour.  Or it may be as simple as he just grew bored of her and wanted a new one.  It’s quite possible he kidnapped your niece as a replacement for this girl, Agent Crawford.  An accurate profile of Casanova is going to prove difficult with the limited information we have.” 

Will nodded, thinking the same thing.  Casanova was good at what he did.  No, he was better than good.  Will had read over the reports from each kidnapping, and in each case he had left no fingerprints, no hair, no fibers, no witnesses…nothing at all to go by.  Just those erotic postcards that Will had initially thought were a signature or calling card of sorts, but after thinking about it and hearing Dr. Lecter say that he thought Casanova was enjoying the fact that he has the police stumped with his perfect crimes, Will now thought it more likely that they had been left at each scene as a taunt.  Will also strongly suspected due to the lack of evidence at each of the crime scenes that Casanova was in some branch of law enforcement, and if he wasn’t, he still somehow had a deep understanding of it.  He rubbed his temples as his head started to throb. 

“Dr. Lecter, if you’re done with your examination perhaps we could give Will a little space so he can examine the body his own way,” Jack said. 

Hannibal looked at Will curiously but followed Jack so that they were far enough away that they were both mostly of his sight. 

Will knelt down about eight feet upwind of Akilah Jackson and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, letting the sounds and smells of the woods wash over him and feeling some of the tension leave him now that he was alone.  When he felt centered he opened his eyes and concentrated on the dead girl in front of him, taking in every detail, then closed his eyes again and let the pendulum swing … fwum … fwum … 

Five minutes later he walked back to where Jack and Hannibal were standing, looking pale and shaken. 

“So?” Jack asked impatiently, ignoring how upset Will looked. 

“He walked her quite a way through the woods, giving her plenty of time to think about what was going to happen to her, which was the whole point.  He removed her shoes first.  Despite the decomposition, I saw bruises and abrasions on the bottom of her feet.  He wanted her to feel pain the entire way just as she had caused him to feel pain by rejecting him.  He didn’t gag her.  That would have told her that he wasn’t worried if she screamed because there was no one around to hear her and that no help would be forthcoming, thus increasing her anxiety.  As she finally came to the realization that she was going to die, she probably broke at some point and begged for her life.  When that happened, that’s when he would have stopped and tied her to the tree.  He then cut off her clothes and hair.” 

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Jack said.  “If he took off her shoes before he marched her through the woods, how do you know he didn’t march her through the woods naked? Why do you think he waited until she was tied up to cut off her clothes?”   

“It was symbolic.  At that point he was essentially stripping her of every last thing she had.  Being tied to a tree made her feel helpless, but taking her clothes made her feel vulnerable as well.  And cutting off her hair—her hair was the very last thing she possessed that tied her to her previous life.  She had those long braids that would have taken her many years to grow, and when he cut them off he was essentially severing her last tie to that life.  And then lastly he raped her because he was angry that she didn’t reciprocate the feelings he had for her.  Plus, seeing her tied up and helpless would have brought out his predatory need to dominate her one last time.  At that point she probably didn’t even resist him because she was still holding on to a small glimmer of hope that he would change his mind and not leave her out here to die.  And she also would have regretted every act of defiance, everything she had done to anger him, and she would have done anything at that point just to go back to wherever he was holding her captive so she wouldn’t have to die alone out here in the middle of the woods.  And that’s exactly what he wanted her to feel.  But at that point she was beyond redemption or forgiveness as far as he was concerned.  So at the end as he turned his back on her and walked away, he crushed that last small glimmer of hope.  Casanova left her here to die a slow and horrible death where she felt only fear and despair at the end.  This was his design.  It was a horrible, horrible way to die, Jack.” 

“Why take a chance on leaving her alive, though?” Hannibal asked, looking at Will with fascination.  What if those boy scouts had happened across her while she was still alive?” 

“I strongly suspect that Casanova always keeps his identity hidden by wearing a mask or a disguise of some sort when he’s with his…collection,” Will said.  “This is someone who is compulsively careful and leaves nothing to chance.” 

“Well, if you’re right about him raping her, at least we’ll have the bastard’s DNA,” Jack said. 

Will signed and said, “I repeat, this is someone who is compulsively careful and leaves nothing to chance.” 

Jack stared at him a few seconds and then said, “You’re kidding me, right?  You’re telling me he brought her out here, drug her through the woods, tied her to a tree, cut off her hair and clothes, and then he took the time to put on a condom before raping her and leaving her here to die?” 

“I would put money on it,” Will said, rubbing his tired eyes.  “I would also put money on the fact that he probably shaves his body hair so that no hairs are left behind.  He thought through every step carefully and methodically before taking action, Jack.” 

Jack closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead for a few seconds.  When he opened his eyes he said, “So, do you think he’s killing them all or just this one because she angered him,” Jack asked, pushing for a definitive answer. 

“I think he couldn’t bend this one to his will so he eliminated her.  Dr. Lecter might be right that your niece was her replacement.  The timing is about right.  I still think he’s keeping them, unless they do something he deems inexcusable to his way of thinking, so it is possible there might be others tied to trees out here as well.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I just need a minute,” Will said, walking off looking a little ill.    

“Most impressive,” Hannibal said to Jack, watching Will walk away.  “What he has is pure empathy.  He can assume your point of view, or mine - and maybe some other points of view that scare him.  It's an incredibly rare and uncomfortable gift, Jack.  Perception is a tool that's pointed on both ends.” 

“Well it’s a tool I intend to utilize to its fullest if it helps me catch this guy,” Jack said with determination, looking a little ill himself.   “You and the police can analyze Casanova’s actions and try to figure out what makes the man tick, but with enough input Will Graham can actually get inside his head and think like him.  If he can think like him then we may be able to find him.  We have to catch this sonofabitch before he ties any more of his captives to trees,” he said, looking back at the dead girl. 

Hannibal looked at Jack, a powerful presence who, although he was trying to hide it, was exhibiting severe signs of stress and anxiety.  He then looked at Will, someone who was dealing with his own stress and anxiety as he constantly had to work at keeping other people’s emotions from overwhelming him.  Jack, in his current mindset, was going to keep pushing Will to the limit, and possibly to the breaking point.  If Will ended up a broken pony in Jack’s stable, perhaps Hannibal could put himself in the position of putting the broken pieces back together…just maybe not in the same configuration.     

Will took a small tin out of his pants pocket that he used to carry a few aspirins in and popped a couple in his mouth now and threw back his head as he swallowed them dry while wiping the sweat off his face with his sleeve.  He was tired and his head ached, and it felt like he was running a fever, although that could just be the heat.  And even though he was trying to tune Jack out, he could still hear his loud voice going on and on from where he stood.  He just wanted to check into the motel and lie down for a bit.  There were always a lot of strong emotions around a crime scene like this—shock, anger, sadness, depression, disbelief, frustration—and due to his empathy he was, to varying degrees, in tune with all of them.  The more emotions and the stronger they were, the harder it was for him to block them out.  In the forefront, of course, were Jack’s highly-charged emotions, and Will was in a constant state of stress and anxiety whenever he was in his proximity.  But he had also felt resentment, jealously, and suspicion coming from Chief Hatfield, and annoyance, aggression, and curiosity coming from the two detectives.  And on top of that, Dr. Lecter seemed intent on following them around.  On the bright side, he probably wouldn’t be seeing Dr. Lecter again after today. 

He glanced up and spotted Detectives Dimmond and Dolarhyde standing nearby, and it appeared that they had been listening in on his interpretation of the crime scene and were whispering to each other while looking at him with vastly different expressions.  He turned away from them and sighed with relief when he saw Jack and Dr. Lecter walking toward him, heading back in the direction of Jack’s car.  Good.  He really needed to get away from here. 

“I’ll get a list of everyone the Baltimore P.D. interviewed and we can interview them all again ourselves tomorrow,” Jack was saying.  Will just nodded and trailed behind him and Dr. Lecter. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the coroner jumping into action to remove the body.  Will crossed his fingers that this girl’s death would at least lead the coroner to finding something, anything in the way of a clue that would lead them to identifying Casanova and ending this quickly, but his gut told him that wasn’t going to be the case. 

Reading the crime scene had left Will shaken.  At one point toward the end he had felt a rush of power flood through him and had felt himself getting aroused.  He was shocked and ashamed of his reaction and had turned away from where he knew Jack and Dr. Lecter were standing, knowing they were watching him.  It had taken him a couple of uncomfortable minutes to get both his mind and body back under control.  Jack had no idea just how close to these killers he actually got when he empathized, what a toll it took on him.  Will just hoped no more bodies turned up because he was not eager to get inside Casanova’s head again anytime soon. 

The three of them walked back to Jack’s car and they drove back to the police station and dropped Dr. Lecter off, because that’s where his car was, and then bid him good evening before driving the five blocks to the Days Inn Motel where they would be staying. Will’s one non-negotiable request in all this was that he have his own room.  He was not willing to share a room with Jack, who seemed to be constantly on the phone with either Bella or other relatives updating them.  Will needed time alone.  He was stressed being away from home, away from his dogs, in a city where they weren’t wanted, and then constantly being bombarded with Jack’s emotions.  As it was, they were in neighboring rooms at the end of the motel strip facing the parking lot. 

As he opened the door to his room, Will could already hear Jack on the phone with Bella, no doubt seeking her calming influence.  He felt for the light switch on the wall to the right of the door and flipped it on.  It was your basic motel layout.  To the right of the door in front of the window was a small table with two chairs.  The full-sized bed was in the middle of the room with a multi-colored polyester spread in shades of peach, blue and beige on it, a cheap landscape painting hanging above it.  Across from the bed was a low dresser with a flat screen TV on it, a listing of channels sitting next to it.  A nightstand on the far side of the bed held a phone and a clock.  And then there was an open door at the end of the room opposite the bed that would lead to a small bathroom.  He tossed the bag containing his clothes on the bed and placed the bag containing his laptop on the table.  He then sat on the side of the bed and closed his eyes, just listening to the quiet hum of the air conditioner and letting the cool air wash over him a few minutes before getting back up. 

Will was in the very last room at the end of the strip, and about 50 yards to the right of his room across a wide stretch of burnt summer grass was a small strip mall.  Will had been able to pick out a Dollar Store, a nail salon, a Mexican food joint, and a small liquor store in the mall.  He walked across the burnt grass and headed for the liquor store first and bought a pint of Jack Daniels; then stopped and got a couple of tacos and some rice and beans at the Mexican restaurant.  He strongly suspected that eating wasn’t going to be a top priority with Jack. 

After going back to his room and eating his meal, he spent the rest of the evening sitting in a chair at the table by the window with his feet up on the second chair starring out into the growing darkness while sipping straight from the bottle and thinking about Akilah Jackson, stripped bare, hair chopped off, tied to a tree where she died a slow, painful, terrifying death.  What had Akilah Jackson done to push Casanova to kill her?  Or maybe he was wrong and Casanova was just a sadist and all the others were tied to trees out in the woods just waiting to be found.  He took another long draw from the bottle, letting it dull his senses.  Jack’s anxiety was affecting him, making him anxious, and he wasn’t his best when he was anxious as evidenced by the fact that he was already second guessing himself. 

And Will wasn’t comforted by the fact that Dr. Lecter was probably right about Casanova enjoying that he had the police running in circles.  Now that the FBI was here would Casanova lay low, or would he flaunt his cleverness by possibly taking another one right underneath their noses?  He had an unsettling feeling that the latter might be the case. 

He was exhausted but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep.  He finally dosed off still sitting in the chair, the near empty whiskey bottle slipping from his fingers and hitting the carpet with a dull thud. 

He dreamed.  He was back in the woods examining Akilah Jackson’s body when she suddenly raised her head and looked at him with empty eye sockets, having been picked clean by the crows, and said, “You have to find him and free the others.  You have to avenge me!  Avenge us all!  Find him!  FIND HIM!  _KILL HIM!!_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter Jack and Will start their own hunt for Casanova, and Will finds out pretty quickly that he was a bit premature in thinking that he had seen the last of Dr. Lecter!


	5. Chapter 5

Will bolted awake to the sound of knocking on his door.  He had fallen asleep at the table slumped down in the chair and he was now covered in sweat, his heart pounding, the dream starting to fade but still haunting him.  _Shit_ , he thought, getting up to answer the door, glancing over at the bedside clock and grimacing at the stiffness in his neck from sleeping in an awkward position.  It was only 7:30 so Jack must be getting an early start this morning.     

Will sighed as he stumbled to the door rubbing the back of his neck, and jerked the door open … only to freeze in shock at finding Dr. Lecter standing there, dressed immaculately, of course, and holding a thermos and a bag.  As Will saw Dr. Lecter’s eyes traveling over him, he realized what he must look like still wearing yesterday’s clothes and drenched in sweat.  He could practically hear the wheels turning behind those dark fathomless eyes that he could tell missed very little. 

Will inwardly groaned when he saw Dr. Lecter’s eyes glance over his shoulder, and he knew the doctor couldn’t help but notice that the bed hadn’t been slept in.    

“Where’s Jack?  What are you doing here?” he said gruffly to cover his embarrassment.   

“Jack left early to go to his niece’s apartment to check for clues there, and then he was going to interview her boyfriend, Tobias Budge.  I spoke with him this morning and he asked that you and I interview some of her professors and friends.  May I come in?  I’ve brought breakfast,” he added, clearly seeing Will’s indecision. 

“Why would Jack speak to you and not to me?” Will asked, frowning in confusion. 

“I called him early this morning and offered my assistance.  I’m an early riser and I had a strong feeling that Agent Crawford would be as well, especially now.”  Since Will just stood in the doorway still looking indecisive, Hannibal repeated, “May I come in?”

“Uh, sure, Will finally said, moving out of the doorway, unable to come up with a reason not to let him in.  “But don’t you have patients to see?” Will asked, backing away from the door, feeling self-conscious. 

“I did, but I rescheduled them.  I felt this was more important.” 

Looking down at himself Will said, “Why don’t you go ahead and set up on the table there while I take a quick shower.”  He then fled into the bathroom, closing and locking the door, feeling better now that he was away from prying eyes.  He stripped off his soiled clothes and got into shower, soaping up quickly.  He did groan now as he imagined Dr. Lecter looking around the room and seeing not only the bed unslept in, but the bottle of whiskey laying wherever it had ended up. 

When he got out of the shower he toweled off briskly, but when he went to reach for the bag containing his clean clothes he realized in his haste he’d forgotten to grab it.  He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his wet curls.  He could already tell that this was just going to be one of those days.  Since he couldn’t stand the thought of putting the sweaty clothes back on now that he was clean, he wrapped the towel around his waist and, praying that Dr. Lecter was still setting up the table and not looking his way, opened the door quietly and stepped out and quickly grabbed the bag that was sitting on the floor five feet directly in front of him next to the bed.  He glanced over…and Dr. Lecter was sitting in a chair at the table facing him, sipping his coffee and watching him curiously.  _Jesus Christ, was nothing going to go right?_   “I…sorry, I forgot my clothes, he said blushing in embarrassment.  “I’ll just be another minute.” 

He tried to slip quickly back in the bathroom when Hannibal said, “Will, a moment please.” 

“I’ll just be a second,” Will said, the hold on his towel becoming precarious as he tried once again to enter the bathroom. 

“A request, please.” 

Will bit down a sigh and angled toward Dr. Lecter while trying the gather the ends of the towel more firmly in his left hand while holding the bag with his right.  “Yes?” 

“The cologne or aftershave you were wearing yesterday, if I could ask you to please leave it off.  I believe I had a slight allergic reaction to it,” Hannibal said tactfully. 

“Oh.  I’m sorry.  Of course.  It’s just that I keep getting it for Christmas,” he said, smiling apologetically, and then fled back into the bathroom. 

Hannibal sipped his coffee, considering what he’s just seen.  Will had the scars of both a gunshot wound and a stab wound on his torso.  So, the quiet little profiler had no problem putting himself in harm’s way.  Interesting.  He found the marks of violence on that pale body of his to be quite beautiful and he imagined all the different ways he could add his own marks of violence to it.    

Will came back out dressed now in slacks and a slightly wrinkled dress shirt and sat down at the table rubbing the back of his neck while Hannibal spooned out two portions of whatever he had in the Tupperware container onto two plates and handed him one, along with silverware and a cloth napkin. 

“I’m very careful about what I put into my body which means I end up preparing most meals myself,” Hannibal said.  “A little protein scramble to start the day. Some eggs, some sausage.” 

The smell hit Will and he had to admit it smelled wonderful. It would also help soak up the alcohol in his system which would in turn help with the hangover he had.  That plus the four aspirin he had already taken in the bathroom while he was getting dressed. 

Hannibal poured some coffee from the thermos into a cup and handed it to him. 

“Do you take your coffee black?” Hannibal asked. 

Will nodded, immediately reaching for the cup and taking a sip, sighing in contentment at the dark, rich taste.  He picked up his fork then and speared a piece of sausage and sighed again while he chewed.  “It’s delicious. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” 

“You said you made this yourself?  You don’t have a cook?” Will asked, taking another bite, having already noticed the absence of a wedding ring. 

“No, cooking is a passion of mine.  I do all my own cooking using only the freshest ingredients,” he said smiling. 

Will had the strangest feeling there was a hidden joke in that comment, but he couldn’t figure out what it could be.   

“Agent Crawford tells me you have a knack for the monsters,” Hannibal said. 

Will had just taken a sip of coffee when Hannibal said that and ended up swallowing it down the wrong way and spent the next 30 seconds coughing into his napkin.  “Wow,” Will said finally, putting the napkin down.  “It seems like the two of you do enjoy talking about me.” 

“Does it bother you that he said that?” 

“No.  I just don’t know how much truth there is to it.  I’m worried that this case is going to turn out to be another case like the Ripper.” 

Hannibal froze.  He hadn’t expected that.  How interesting.  “What do you mean?” he asked, taking a bite of sausage and egg while watching Will closely. 

Will leaned back in the chair.  “You’re familiar with the Chesapeake Ripper, I assume?  He’s been making the news for years.”  At Hannibal’s nod Will said, “He’s another brilliantly elusive predator that mainly stalks the Baltimore area.  The Ripper strikes in sounders of three, which means that when he makes his first kill everyone goes into panic mode knowing that two more are coming, and if we don’t catch him during those two he’ll go dormant again for an undeterminable period of time.  He’s had the same pattern for a while now, and the FBI is making no real headway on the case because he’s methodical and meticulous, just like the police are making no headway on the Casanova case for pretty much the same reason.  I’m not on the Ripper case but I’ve studied the files, and I’m fairly certainly the Ripper is taking the specific organs he takes, not as trophies as most feel, as a lot of serial killers do like taking trophies, but to eat them.  I’m pretty sure the Ripper is a cannibal.  And I have a strong feeling that when he does go on one of his killing sprees it signifies something—something that’s happening in his life, some event or ritual or … something,” Will said, throwing up his hands in frustration.  “And it’s like it’s right there in front of me just out of my sight, and if I could just focus a little bit harder I could see it.  I feel like I’m so close to making the connection, yet I just can’t seem to,” he said looking at Hannibal. 

_Clever, clever boy._

“So,” Will said, picking his fork back up, “what else did Jack say?” 

“Oh, nothing much.  I think Jack sees you as a fragile little teacup.  The finest china, used only for special guests.” 

Will huffed.  “And how do you see me?” 

“The mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by.”  Hannibal said, looking at the delightfully confused look on Will’s face.  “Finish your breakfast, Will.”   

After they finished eating Hannibal packed up the dishes while Will finished dressing, pulling on his socks and shoes and tugging on a jacket that he plucked a couple of dog hairs off of.  Hannibal watched Will out of the corner of his eye and analyzed his impressions of the man.  Will was prickly, blunt, and sometimes rude, a bit shy and antisocial, but when he did engage in a conversation he was undeniably brilliant.  And undeniably dangerous as well. His outfits were thrown together like he dressed in the dark, and Hannibal wondered how often he ran a comb through that unruly mess of curls on his head.  Will Graham was more the type of person that ended up _on_ Hannibal’s dining table, not sitting at it.  So why was it that he found the man fascinating rather than irritating?  He would store that away in one of the rooms in his memory palace for analysis later on.  Right now they had several people to interview. 

“Shall we go?” Hannibal asked when it looked as if Will was as put together as he was going to get. 

They walked outside and Will paused as he took in the sleek lines of the black Bentley Arnage that Hannibal walked to.  “This is your car?” Will asked.  “How is it you can afford a car like this when you’re never at work?” he asked bluntly. 

“Get in,” Hannibal said, smirking. 

As Will got into the car and sank into the comfortable seat, he couldn’t help but sigh as he relaxed into the buttery softness of the leather. 

Hannibal had the windows up and the air conditioner on low.  There was a reason he had asked Will not to wear his cologne, other than, of course, the obvious fact that it was awful and smelled like something that would have a ship on the bottle.  No, he had caught the faint scent of something else when he was in the car with Will yesterday but couldn’t analyze it properly with Will’s pungent cologne overpowering it.  He inhaled deeply now and let the scent hang on the back of his throat and tongue.  The scent of the soap that Will used in the shower was in the forefront…but, there, just barely discernible was a fevered sweetness that wasn’t natural.  If Hannibal had to hazard a guess he would say that Will was in the beginning stages of encephalitis.  Initial symptoms were headaches, stiff neck, lethargy, maybe vomiting, but as it grew worse and as the brain slowly caught fire there would be fever, confusion, hallucinations, seizures, irritability, sensitivity to light, and even unconsciousness.  At the crime scene yesterday Hannibal had observed Will taking some type of pills out of a small tin, and he was rubbing the back of his neck quite a bit this morning.  The night sweats he obviously suffered from might be indicative of a mild fever.  If he was correct in his diagnosis (and he was rarely wrong), this could lead to all sorts of interesting scenarios. 

They drove to John Hopkins Peabody Conservatory, the school Cassandra attended, and spent the morning interviewing her best friend, some of her classmates, and a few of her professors.  Everyone said basically the same thing, that Cassandra was a wonderful young woman, highly intelligent, kind, extremely focused on her music, and in love with her boyfriend.  Cassandra hadn't expressed any concerns about thinking she was being followed or watched to any of them.  While speaking with her best friend, Georgia Madchen, however, they did learn that she had had a meeting with the college psychiatrist a couple weeks before she was kidnapped which had left her disturbed. 

“She was feeling stressed because of her studies and worrying she wouldn’t be good enough to be picked up by the Baltimore Symphony, which is ridiculous,” Georgia said, “because she’s amazing, but she was feeling out of sorts, so she went to Dr. Chilton, the school’s psychiatrist and counselor.  I mean, that’s what he’s here for, to counsel students and help them deal with their problems.  She wouldn’t tell me exactly what happened, but I could tell she was even more upset after the meeting.  She just told me if I had a problem not to go to Dr. Chilton with it because he was, quote, ‘creepy’,” she said while making air quotes with her fingers.    

Will and Hannibal thanked her for her help and left. 

“It would appear we need to speak to Dr. Chilton,” Will said.  “Didn’t I see him listed on the board of suspects at the police station as a person of interest?” 

“Yes,” Hannibal said.  “Dr. Chilton has a certain reputation at the university for seducing his students.” 

“Why doesn’t the university fire him?” 

“He has tenure, there have been no real complaints, and none of the students have been underage, so there’s no legitimate reason to terminate him.” 

“Great, a sleazebag,” Will said, shaking his head.  “Well, I wouldn’t think Casanova would be that obvious, but we’d better interview him anyway.  Jack won’t want us leaving any stone unturned.”

“I must warn you, Will, that I’m not one of Dr. Chilton’s favorite people.  He published a paper a year back in a noted psychiatric magazine and I wrote a commentary on it pointing out several flaws in his logic, which the magazine published.  He looked a bit of a fool afterward.” 

“Well, maybe if he’s upset and emotional he’ll slip up, make a mistake.  It could work to our advantage,” Will said hopefully. 

Will called Dr. Chilton’s office and spoke with his secretary, explained what he needed, and his secretary said the doctor had a free period in half an hour and she would squeeze him in.  He purposely failed to mention that Dr. Lecter would be joining him.  They went on over to Dr. Chilton’s office and sat in the outer office until his unsurprisingly young and attractive secretary told them that Dr. Chilton would see them now. 

Will put on his glasses as they walked into his office, and he saw Dr. Chilton immediately bristle as soon as he laid eyes on Dr. Lecter. 

“I was led to believe I was meeting with the FBI…something to do with the Casanova case,” Dr. Chilton said, glaring at Will.  “Why is he here?” 

“Dr. Lecter has volunteered to help with a psychological profile of Casanova,” Will said, hoping Dr. Chilton wouldn’t order them out.  “I’m Will Graham, I’m with the FBI and I’ll be asking the questions and I promise I won’t take up much of your time.  I know how valuable it is and I want to thank you for agreeing to meet with me so quickly,” Will said, shaking his hand and forcing a smile on his face.  He knew how to placate a pompous, egotistical man like this, even if he didn’t like doing so.      

“Well, as long as you realize my time is valuable,” Dr. Chilton said sitting down, leaning back in his chair and looking appeased, “I’m sure I can spare a few minutes to help out the FBI,” he said glancing at Hannibal and practically preening now, much to Will’s disgust. 

Dr. Chilton indicated two leather chairs opposite his desk and Will and Hannibal sat down facing him. 

“I wanted to ask you specifically about Cassandra Crawford, one of the students at this university who was taken by Casanova,” Will started out.  “We’ve been told that she came to see you a couple of weeks before she disappeared.  What did she come see you about?”

“Cassandra is a classic overachiever,” Dr. Chilton said, steepleing his fingers and trying to look scholarly.  Even though she was doing well in school and had garnered the attention of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, she was worried that she wasn’t doing enough.  This was causing her depression and anxiety and she was having trouble sleeping.  I listened to her, let her talk it out, and told her that her feelings were common in overachievers.  I offered to prescribe her something for her anxiety and to help her sleep, but she declined.” 

Will nodded.  “Did she mention any concerns about thinking she was being watched or followed, anything like that?” 

“No,” Dr. Chilton said, “nothing like that.  Just the typical boring angst of an overachiever.” 

“We were told by a friend of hers that she seemed a bit upset after her meeting with you.  Do you know what she might have been upset about?” Will pressed.    

“Young people are always looking for quick fixes.  She was probably just upset that I didn’t have a secret formula to make all her worries vanish,” Dr. Chilton said, waving his hand dismissively. 

Will could tell he was hiding something.  After analyzing the feelings he was picking up and studying Dr. Chilton’s body language for a few seconds he took off his glasses and relaxed back in his chair and said, “I’ve heard tell that you have had quite a number of conquests among your students.  Cassandra is a very attractive woman and you’re an eligible bachelor.  Was there possibly any flirting done by either side during your session?” he asked tactfully, making sure to keep his voice neutral. 

“There may have been,” Dr. Chilton said, puffing his chest out a bit.  “I am considered quite the catch on campus,” he replied. 

Will nodded.  “Did you perhaps ask her out?” he prodded gently. 

“No,” he said, but Will noticed his eyes flicked over to Dr. Lecter before he said it.  Damn it, he should have come alone.  Dr. Chilton wasn’t going to be as forthcoming with a peer in the room listening in.  And Will really didn’t think that just asking her out would justify being called ‘creepy’.  Inappropriate maybe, but Will suspected it went a little deeper. 

“Did you perhaps touch her in a way that she may have misconstrued?” Will asked, again trying to appear nonjudgmental. 

Dr. Chilton looked between Will and Dr. Lecter as if calculating, and then looked at Will and said, “Since you’ve obviously asked around and heard stories about me, let me just set the record straight since we’re all adults here.  I’m a single man with a good job and have been told by many that I’m quite handsome,” he said raising his chin a bit.  “I have no trouble getting dates.  I don’t need to force my attentions on anyone, if that’s what you’re implying.  And while I’m opening up to you, let me add that I like to fuck.  I fuck often and in various ways.  I like to fuck men and women alike,” he said, looking at Will pointedly.  I have fucked nearly 100 of them in 75 ways, but I have never hurt any of them and it’s always consensual.  I have broken no laws and there's no record of violence anywhere in my past.” 

Will knew that he had added on that last part for shock value to try and shake him up.  He focused on the emotions he was picking up from Dr. Chilton and concentrated on keeping his face calm and his breathing even.  “Are you…into bondage?” he inquired, tilting his head a bit and taking on an interested look. 

“What an interesting question, Mr. Graham,” Dr. Chilton said, smiling at him and leaning forward, his elbows on the desk now.  I once recreated a painstaking image from Friedrick Thelen's _Die Welt der Flagellanten_.  Do you know it?” Dr. Chilton asked, licking his lips.   

“I’m afraid not,” Will said in a soft voice.  “I take it it’s a complicated configuration?”   

“It took me over an hour to tie this particular young man up properly.  And consensually, by the way,” he added, eyes flicking to Dr. Lecter again.  “But the sex once he was tied up was erotically singular and intense.  I would be more than happy to provide a demonstration for you, Mr. Graham,” he said. 

Hannibal was simply captivated watching the exchange between these two men.  Hannibal strongly suspected that Will had opened up his empathy to get a read on Frederick’s emotional state and was using it to his advantage now to lure Dr. Chilton in, almost seducing him in a way.  Hannibal had watched Will’s body language totally change since they had entered the room.  He had removed his glasses, become more relaxed, his voice becoming almost sultry.  It was simply fascinating to watch.  He also noticed that Will had a habit of rubbing his forefinger over his lower lip while he was thinking.  Since Will didn’t like making eye contact Hannibal strongly suspected it was unconscious on his part, but the movement kept drawing Frederick’s eyes to his mouth.  He was amazed to see that Frederick’s pupils were dilating and his interest in Will was quite obvious.    

“So,” Will said, “you can shed no light on why Cassandra Crawford’s friend perceived that she was upset after her session with you, Dr. Chilton?” he said, attempting to steer the conversation back on track. 

Dr. Chilton shrugged.  “Again, she was frustrated, and my guess is she thought I would have some magic spell to cure all her woes.  But there are no quick fixes in psychiatry.  You have to work hard to overcome emotional barriers.  Perfectionism is searching for faults to justify low self-esteem. It is a guaranteed failure and fantasy.” 

Will knew there was more Dr. Chilton was not telling him, but he also knew he wasn’t going to say anything more in front of Dr. Lecter. 

“Well, I believe we’ve taken up more than enough of your time, Dr. Chilton,” Will said standing.  “I want to thank you for taking the time to meet with me on such short notice.” 

“Not at all,” Dr. Chilton said, looking a bit flustered that Will was leaving.  “Here, let me give you my card,” he said, hastily pulling a card case out of his inside jacket pocket.  “I’ll write my cell phone number on the back.  Give me a call.  Call me any time.  Perhaps we can get together for a drink later on,” he said, handing it to Will and intentionally brushing his fingers along his. 

“Perhaps,” Will said noncommittally and smiled as he put the card in his jacket pocket and headed for the door. 

Once they were outside Will's manner changed and he said, “I don’t know how the university can allow someone like that to work here.  And there was definitely more to that meeting with Cassandra than he disclosed.” 

“I thought so too,” Hannibal said.  “That was an interesting method of questioning him.”   

“Hmm?” Will replied, lost in his own thoughts. 

“The way you questioned him was as if you were picking up on his preferences and altering your behavior to match those preferences, which relaxed him and made him lower his guard.” 

“He’s an egotist with a high opinion of himself, so I gave him my undivided attention and added a touch of flattery to get him to open up,” Will said shrugging.  “But he really didn’t give us anything, except admitting that he’s a pervert, and we already knew that.  He was holding something back, I know he was.” 

“You were altering your behavior and luring him with your looks and appeal,” Hannibal observed. 

Will stopped and looked at Hannibal in surprise.  “You’re joking, right?  I mean, do you actually _this_ …” Will said, indicating himself as he plucked a couple more dog hairs he just noticed off his jacket … “is actually appealing?” 

Strangely enough, Hannibal did.  It was also becoming clear to Hannibal that what Will had done with Dr. Chilton had been unconscious and instinctual, not necessarily willful or planned, no doubt a byproduct of his empathy.  Sort of like a chameleon automatically changing colors to match its environment.  When Will opened up his empathy, his thoughts and feelings adapted to the input and stimuli he was receiving.  Interesting.  He would love to know what Will had actually _felt_ when he had opened up his empathy while looking at Casanova’s victim. 

“You had warned me ahead of time what type of man Dr. Chilton is, so I just flattered him and played it up a bit,” Will said, looking a tad uncomfortable.  So,” he said, walking toward the car and changing the subject, “in your professional opinion could Dr. Chilton be Casanova?” 

“I would think Dr. Chilton could no more be Casanova than you or I.  What is your opinion in that regard?” 

“Despite the fact it felt like he was hiding something, Dr. Chilton is no mastermind, he's no Casanova. Well,” he sighed, “let’s go find Jack and tell him what we learned.  He’s not going to be happy.  Let’s just hope he had better luck.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter you’ll get a peek into Casanova’s lair. Thank you to everyone who's supporting this story. -EA


	6. Chapter 6

As Will and Hannibal left Dr. Chilton’s office, Will phoned Jack and they arranged to meet up at Police Headquarters.  When they arrived, Jack walked them through headquarters and into the room that contained all the compiled Casanova information. 

“Chief Hatfield is actually letting us use this room?” Will asked in surprise.  

“The chief and I reached an understanding of sorts,” Jack said.  “He lets us use this room, and in exchange, I promised to keep him apprised of anything new we discover.  The chief won’t admit it, but I think he’s run into a brick wall on this case and is willing to forego his pride for a little interagency cooperation.  So, even though he doesn’t like us being here, he’s hoping we can give him something he can use so that it looks like he’s still making progress on the case.  And let’s not overlook the fact that if he’s seen to be cooperating with the FBI and we also fail to turn up anything, it splits the focus and takes some of the heat off of him. 

Will nodded.  That sounded more like the chief. 

As the three sat down at the table, Will led off, telling Jack about the interviews he and Dr. Lecter conducted, what Georgia Madchen had told them, and the subsequent interview with Dr. Chilton.  Jack had become predictably agitated during Will’s retelling of what Dr. Chilton had said.  And it didn’t help matters that Dr. Chilton’s picture was staring at them six feet away on the Baltimore Police’s suspect board. Both Will and Dr. Lecter told Jack that they didn’t think Dr. Chilton could possibly be Casanova, but Jack wasn’t ready to cross him off as a suspect yet, especially when he was the only suspect they even remotely had at the present time. 

“I’ve already phoned the FBI about having background checks done on everyone listed on the suspect board here,” Jack said, “so if Dr. Chilton does have even the tiniest hint of violence in his past, believe me, they’ll find it.”   

Will nodded.   “So, how did the interview with your niece’s boyfriend go?” Will asked. 

“Tobias Budge said he and Keke have been pretty exclusive for the past year.  He plays the cello and the two of them had hoped that they would both be picked up by the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra.  Tobias said he reported her missing after two days when she didn’t answer her phone or her door, and the police blew him off, said that not enough time had passed.  When he went back a couple days later and reported it again they went to her apartment and found the postcard, and then turned around and took him down to headquarters and treated him like a suspect.  Needless to say, he’s angry and not at all happy with Baltimore Police.  I did discover one thing, though.  When I went through Keke’s apartment I noticed that her violin wasn’t there.  I asked Tobias whether she had left it at his place and he said that she never left it at his place, it was like her child.” 

“So you’re thinking Casanova took the violin as well?” Hannibal asked. 

“I’m wondering now if he took Keke _because of_ the violin.  Or rather because of her playing.  He selects people who are extraordinary, right?  So what if he saw Keke playing the violin and decided that he wanted to add her beautiful gift to his collection?  That would mean he saw her play at some point.  I asked Tobias if Keke had performed in public within the last several months, and he said she had.  Unfortunately it’s been before large audiences.  Her whole class performed at halftime at a college football championship game several months ago, and several members of her class volunteered just a month ago to play at a festival to raise money to sponsor a couple of local kids who want to participate in the Special Olympics in Seattle.” 

“So Keke may have caught Casanova’s attention at one of those two events, but with so many people attending there would be no way to narrow it down,” Will said.   

“Everything involved in this damn case is one step forward, two steps back,” Jack said, running a hand over his short hair in frustration.  “But maybe he targeted the others in a similar fashion.  Maybe he saw them outside of school or work at some other activity.  We need to interview someone close to each one of the victims again and find out specifically if they were into any outside activity that Casanova may have spotted them at.  That may lead us to a clue or a connection.  I’ll take half, you guys take half.  We’ll meet back here when we’re done to compare notes.” 

Will looked at Hannibal and sighed. 

*   *   *   *   *

Abigail Hobbs nervously applied her makeup and fixed her hair as best as she could.  She had always worn her hair loose and natural, but “he” liked it a little fancier on the occasions when he had them all dress up.  She was currently wearing a floor length royal blue, form fitting, sleeveless satin gown with a low V-neck.  He had her and the other captives dress up in fancy clothes that he would provide about once a month was her best guess considering there were no clocks or windows here, and then he would bring them all out of their rooms—prisons really—into this huge, sparsely but richly appointed living area with a high, vaulted ceiling, where the captives would all sit in a circle on folding chairs and where she would drink in the sight of just being able to see other people.  She felt close to the others even though she didn’t know them and wasn’t allowed to speak a word to any of them.  It was a feeling of camaraderie.  They were the only people in the world who knew exactly what she was feeling, because they were all going through the exact same hell that she was.  She saw it in all their eyes, the same fear and desperation that she tried so hard to hide and that was nearly eating her alive. 

On those rare occasions when they were brought out together, Casanova would usually have one of them perform in some way.  One time he had one of the girl’s read from an erotic book; another time he had had one of the girls sing.  And the whole time he had them out together he circled them like a shark circling prey, touching them, wearing nothing but that horrible stocking mask that he never took off, a black Chinese silk robe, and a hard-on.  He was always aroused.  She had never seen him when he wasn’t aroused.  In fact, he could maintain an erection longer than she had thought possible with her limited experience.  And the whole time he walked around them he held a taser in his left hand threateningly in case one of them tried something.  One time he had pulled down the strap of the redhead’s dress so low her boob had popped out.  She had turned bright red with embarrassment and had tried to tuck it back in, but he stopped her and made her sit like that with one boob hanging out the whole time they were there, and every now and then would walk behind her and reach over and fondle her, enjoying her embarrassment.  God, she hated him so much.  She had never hated anyone as much as she hated this disgusting pig of a man.    

There was a guy in their group now.  They had all been shocked to see him appear as part of their group the last time Casanova brought them out a month or so ago.  So, apparently Casanova liked men as well as women.  She had to admit that the guy was gorgeous, but she had clearly seen the barely contained rage simmering beneath his beautiful blue eyes.  The guy had actually jumped up and tried to disarm Casanova his first time out with them.  It had happened so fast that none of them had been able to react quickly enough to try and help him before Casanova had tasered him.  Casanova had then picked him up and carried him over to a narrow table and laid him on it and tied him down while he was still unconscious.  Oh, he did love to tie people down, she knew that well enough from experience.  He then had announced to the rest of them that he would attend to the guy later, and to let this be a lesson to anyone else who decided to be brave.  Later on, after Casanova had put them all back in their rooms, she had heard the guy screaming, even when she had clasped her hands over her ears.  She had heard other women scream from time to time, but her mind had run rampant thinking about what Casanova might be doing to make a man scream like that.  She looked over at him now and he looked a bit more subdued than last time. 

As she looked around at the others she noticed that there was another new girl here today, but when she counted there were still the same number of chairs.  She scanned the faces again and noticed that the black girl with the long braids was missing, and her tension immediately shot up.  What happened to her?  _Was she set free?_   Don’t think so.  _Escaped?_   Not likely.  _Dead?_   Her eyes filled with tears as she thought that that was more likely.  She looked at the others and saw that they had noticed the girl missing as well.  The woman with the blue eyes and dark wavy hair looked especially upset.  Abigail thought of this particular woman as kind of the mother figure of their group because she was a little bit older than the rest of them, and whenever Casanova brought them all out she noticed this woman always looked them all over from head to toe as if checking to make sure they were okay. Now Abigail saw panic reflected in the woman’s eyes at finding one of the “kids” missing.   

“Aren’t we missing someone?” the mom lady asked quietly, and Abigail was so proud of her, that she had the guts to ask what she knew they were all wondering. 

“No talking,” Casanova answered, just as quietly.  And that was the end of it.  Abigail saw grief reflected on all their faces, except for the new girl.  The new girl would have no idea what was going on, that she had replaced one of their own who was just suddenly gone.  Was this the fate they would all meet some day, that when he grew angry or bored with one of them or he found a prettier one, he just replace them with someone else like this beautiful new girl sitting here today?  Her stomach was hurting her so bad now that she could barely concentrate. 

Casanova started speaking then and she looked up at the hated stockinged face while trying to keep the loathing she was feeling from showing.  He was standing behind the new girl and telling them all that as a treat, he was going to have the girl play the violin for them.  He then handed the girl a beautiful instrument, which she took with trembling hands.  Abigail didn’t know how she was going to play as badly as she was shaking, but once she started playing she seemed to relax, and the music was so beautiful.  Abigail concentrated on the girl and the beautiful music, and when she closed her eyes she could almost imagine that she was somewhere else as she let the music wash over her and soothe her.  She was sad when it ended and reality came crashing back. 

They all clapped for the girl.  They were allowed to do that.  It’s the only way they could show their support for each other.  Casanova then put his hands on the new girl’s cringing shoulders and announced to them all that her playing was so moving that he would be honoring her by spending the night with her.  As bad as Abigail felt for the new girl, she couldn’t help the enormous feeling of relief that she wouldn’t have to suffer his attentions this night.   

Casanova then put her and the rest of them back in their rooms, and she paced agitatedly, thinking about the missing girl.  She couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that one day in the not too distant future Casanova might decide to get rid of her too.   Either way, she was a realist and knew that she was eventually going to die here.  He was never going to just let them go.  She would never see her family or her friends again.  She had had such a good life before he had taken her.  She had had friends, a boyfriend, was in school studying to become a veterinarian because she loved animals.  But now there was no boyfriend, no friends, no sun, so laughter, no joy, no one to talk to; only fear and pain and loneliness and the four walls that made up her prison.      

Sometimes he would inject her with something and she wouldn’t be able to remember what happened.  She would wake up later on sore and bruised.  Sometimes he would slip something in her food or drink and she would feel intoxicated…or even aroused.  The things that he did to her, the things that he forced her to do to him, left her with feelings of such humiliation. 

She paced her room like a caged animal.  She estimated she had been here between three and four months, best guess based on the number of times he brought food, which was only once or twice a day.  She felt like she was slowly losing her mind.  She missed her former life so bad it was a constant, gnawing ache. 

She couldn’t stop thinking about the girl with the braids, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.  She knew she was having a panic attack, but she couldn’t seem to stop it.  Her heart was hammering and every noise she heard she envisioned it was him coming to take her away and kill her, the whole time laughing through that horrid mask at her and telling her he had found someone better. 

She had to do something.  She could not continue to live like this.  Plus, she thought, if she could get free, then she could get help for the others.  They had all suffered through this together and she wanted to see them all free from him as well. 

If only they could coordinate an attack, all of them rush him the next time they were all out together.  They outnumbered him and if they did it together they should be able to overpower him, despite how incredibly strong he is.  The only problem there is that one of Casanova’s strictest rules is they were not allowed to speak to each other—not out in the open when they were together, and not when they were locked in their rooms, even though the others were in neighboring rooms or across the hallway from her.  Somehow he always knew of any infractions to his rules and they were dealt with severely.  So there was no way for them to coordinate a plan of attack, which was probably the reason for the rule. 

Several hours later she was lying on her bed half dosing when she heard a door down the hall open and close, and then a few minutes later the sound of someone crying.  He must have finished with the new girl and put her back in her room.  Hopefully that meant he was gone now.  She didn’t think he actually lived here.  No, he probably had some nice life out there in the free world with no one the wiser as to who and what he is. 

The girl’s sobs broke Abigail’s heart and her need to call out and comfort the other girl was an aching need.  She remembered when she had first arrived how shattered she had felt after “being chosen” and how alone she had felt afterwards.  She knew that by talking to this girl she would be breaking the rules, but she was near the breaking point and she needed to call out, to comfort the other girl as she was never comforted. 

She gathered what little courage she had and walked to her door.  She said a silent prayer that Casanova had indeed left the building.  The door was heavy wood with a small sliding panel at eye-level that only he could open, and it was currently closed.  There was also a slot at the bottom of the door that he could slide food trays through.  She took a couple of deep breaths and called out, “Hey!  Hey, new girl!  My name is Abigail.  Abigail Hobbs.  We’ve all been through what you’re going through.  What’s your name?” 

No answer. 

“Talk to me!  My name is Abigail.  What’s yours?” 

“Shhh!” she heard from somewhere across from her.  “Are you crazy!  You know the rules!  Be quiet!  He’ll punish you!  He’ll hurt you!” 

“I don’t care anymore!” Abigail called out.  You saw that the black girl with the braids isn’t here any longer.  He must have gotten rid of her and replaced her.  That’s what will happen to all of us eventually, he’ll get bored of us and we’ll go missing and then he’ll get a brand new shiny one to replace us.  I don’t want to die down here,” she said, her voice breaking as she put her forehead against the door and fought back the tears. 

Then a small voice at the end of the hall said, “My name’s Cassandra, but my friends call me Keke.  How long have you been down here, Abigail?” she sniffed. 

“Shhhh!  Didn’t he tell you the rules?  No talking!” came another voice. 

“I’ve been here around three or four months, I think,” Abigail replied.  “It’s really hard to keep track down here.” 

“My name’s Alana,” another voice said, and Abigail thought it sounded like the mom lady’s voice.  “I’ve been here for what seems like forever.  It was late January when I was taken.  What month is it now?” she asked. 

“It’s August,” Keke answered. 

Abigail heard several gasps. 

“Seven months,” the woman named Alana said.  “There was only one other girl here when he took me, a beautiful blond woman, and she disappeared about two months after I got here.” 

Then one by one the others called out their names … Rosita … Chandler … Donna … and then finally Kelli, her fellow captives.  They were all trapped in this nightmare together.  She didn’t feel so alone now. 

Abigail did start crying then.  She repeated their names in her head so she wouldn’t forget them … Keke, Alana, Rosita, Chandler, Donna and Kelli. 

Abigail felt emboldened by the fact that he hadn’t showed up to punish her for talking.  Surely that meant that he was out.  She threw out the idea to the others then that the next time he had them all out together that they should all rush him together, and the others agreed.  She smiled and felt better at the thought that they had a plan now and would all escape this place together and get that fucking pervert locked up.  Or better yet, shot.   

 

Several hours later a paper plate and cup were shoved through the opening at the bottom of the door.  She walked over and saw a tuna sandwich, some chips, and what appeared to be a cup of milk.  He never used anything made of glass or gave them real silverware.  She sat on the side of her bed and sniffed everything like she normally did, checking for any unusual chemical or drug smells, and not smelling any started to eat.  The dizziness and disorientation hit her several minutes later.  It wasn’t one of the usual drugs he used.  _He knows I spoke with the others,_ she thought, _and now he’s going to kill me!_     

He walked in a little while later and she was sitting on the floor holding her knees to her chest, fighting the nausea that accompanied the dizziness.  She looked up and he was wearing that creepy stocking over his face as usual, but he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, jeans and sneakers now, not the usual silk robe. 

“You were one of my favorites, Abigail,” he said.  “I did warn you about breaking the rules, did I not?  I loved you.  How could you betray me like this?” 

“I'm sorry,” Abigail said pitifully, the drug making her slur her words a bit.  “I'm sorry.” 

 _"I'm sorry_ ,” he said mockingly. 

“I won’t do it again, I promise.  I'll do anything you want,” she said, starting to cry now. 

“What?  What did you say?”

“I said … I'll do anything … you want,” she said, her voice hiccupping.

“Oh, I know you will.  Give me your arm.” 

She stared in horror at the syringe in his hand and shook her head no.

“I said _give-me-your-arm!_ ” he said louder.  “Come on.  Give it to me!” 

Abigail knew instinctively that if he injected her with whatever that was, she was dead.  Oh, god, she didn’t want to die, not here, not like this.  With a sudden burst of adrenaline she jumped up and grabbed a hardcover book off her bedside table and swung it with all her might toward his head.  The only reason it worked was because he had been concentrating on squirting a small amount of liquid out of the tip of the syringe at that exact moment and hadn’t seen it coming. 

The book connected soundly with the side of his head and he stumbled sideways and crashed into the wall and ended up sprawled on the floor.  She knew he wasn’t knocked out, but it would buy her time. 

She ran out the open door of her room.  Turning left would lead to the big gathering room and she couldn’t remember anything that looked like an exit there, so she turned right and ran.  She was dizzy and disoriented and thought she might be hallucinating now because it looked like the walls were moving.  She weaved like a drunken person down a long hallway with no windows following twists and turns.   What kind of strange structure was this?  It looked like a house, some of the walls looked new, freshly painted, but there were no windows, no doors, not anywhere!  It wasn’t like any kind of house she’d ever seen. 

She ran blindly, feeling like she was going in a big circle, looking for anything that looked like a way out of here.  Then she heard him scream behind her … “ _ABIGAIL!_ ” … and a new level of terror kicked in.  If he caught her …  No, try to stay focused, don’t panic.  Panicking will get you killed. 

She heard him again and he sounded closer now.  She couldn’t concentrate; the drug was fogging her brain.  Then she saw a patch of light up ahead and headed for it.  Suddenly she was outside without really knowing how she got there and the bright sun overhead was blinding her light-sensitive eyes.  She was in the woods and the world had never seemed so beautiful. She took off running, breathing in the sweet smell of fresh air as she did, tears streaming down her face. 

But then she remembered the others.  She needed to bring help, to get them rescued, so she stopped and turned around to look at the house so she could describe it to the police.  But there was nothing there but trees and brush.  What the hell?  Where was it?  She frantically turned in a circle looking for the house.  She couldn’t find it!  Was she hallucinating now?  What if she wasn’t outside at all?  What if she was still in her room and he was sticking that syringe in her arm even now and she was imagining all this?  She couldn’t tell what was real. 

No, she had to think positive.  This felt real.  The bird sounds, the smells.  She just needed to find somebody and they would get help out here to find the house and rescue the others.  Maybe she should find a hiding place and lay low until the drug wore off and then she could look for the house again.  But then she heard him and he wasn’t that far behind her, and in a panic she took off again, running blindly. 

Her arms and legs were feeling numb now and she fell several times.  Her clothes kept getting snagged on thorny branches and she was getting scratched up, but she was so high on the taste of freedom that she didn’t feel them.  She could still hear him calling her name.  The fact that he was calling out loud was bad.  It took her hazy brain a minute to figure out that if he was shouting out loud, that meant he knew there was nobody nearby to hear him, which meant there was nobody nearby to help her. 

She kept going on pure adrenaline until she reached the edge of a cliff and stopped right before tumbling over the side.  Steep, sheer rock dropped at least a hundred feet.  There was a river at the bottom with a fast current.  Scrub pines and bushes grew out of the rock and blocked part of her view.  She turned around planning to run in a different direction … but he was standing there panting, a length of rope in his hands.  A rope he would use to tie her up, make her helpless.  Before killing her.    

Heart hammering, she looked behind her, down at the river again.  Jumping would be almost certain death.  There was no way of knowing how deep the river even was.  It could be shallow and she’d break into a million pieces.  But if she let him take her, she knew in her gut there was zero chance of survival. 

“Whoa, girl, easy.  Easy now,” he said softly, moving slowly closer with his hand out like she was a spooked horse. 

She made up her mind.  _Almost_ certain death was better than certain death, she decided.  She could not, would not let him take her.  He must have seen the moment she made up her mind because he yelled, _“ABIGAIL, NO!!”_ right before she turned and jumped, pushing off as hard as she could.  Her body hit a few tree branches on the way down and her arm hit one branch hard enough that she almost blacked out from the pain.  She could hear him screaming her name above her.  She hit the cold water hard and went under.  The current was strong and she felt it pulling her downstream.  She was disoriented and didn’t know which way was up and she was running out of air.  Finally, everything went black.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you'll join me for the next chapter where Jack, Will and Hannibal pay a visit to the hospital. -EA


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for your support. If you left a comment on the last chapter but didn't receive a reply, see the note at the end of this chapter. -EA

“So,” Jack said, back at the precinct in the Casanova evidence room, “we know that Keke could have been spotted by Casanova playing her music outside of school.  Akilah Jackson,” he said pointing at the dead girl’s picture, “was an avid jogger and could have been spotted by Casanova while jogging.  Chandler Dorsey was on the school’s soccer team and Casanova could have spotted him playing or practicing.  Kelli Ferguson was an avid chess player and liked to go to an area of the local park where people gathered to play chess, and he could have spotted her there.  Rosita Santiago frequently went to local clubs and bars because she loved to dance.  Abigail Hobbs worked part-time at a local animal shelter.  Donna Chin worked part-time as a waitress at a popular pancake house. Bethany Silversmith was a doctor who not only worked at the hospital, she volunteered one day a week at a free clinic in a poor part of town.  And Alana Bloom was an occasional guest lecturer at Johns Hopkins University.”  Jack shook his head.  “Which basically tells us how they _may_ have gotten on Casanova’s radar, but there’s no real connection and it doesn’t really bring us any closer to identifying him,” he said, rubbing his face tiredly.    

Just then they heard a buzz of excitement going through the police station. 

“Wonder what that’s about?” Jack said.  He stepped out of the room and yelled out to no one in particular, “What’s going on?” 

“They found one of Casanova’s victims alive!” Sergeant Brown told him.  “She’s at St. Johns Hospital.  We’ll get that bastard now for sure,” he said smiling. 

“Let’s go,” Jack said urgently to Will and Hannibal, grabbing his suit jacket and already heading for the door, excitement coursing through him. 

They arrived at Johns Hopkins Hospital but were told at the nurses station that the doctor was in with the patient and they had to wait in the waiting room.  She wouldn’t give them any further information.  Looking down the hall they saw a police officer stationed in front of one particular door. 

“Good, they have an officer already stationed in front of her door,” Jack said approvingly. 

They went to the waiting area, but spotted Detectives Dimmond and Dolarhyde walking toward them with a doctor trailing behind them shortly thereafter. 

“Which one is it?” Jack asked immediately. 

“It’s Abigail Hobbs,” Detective Dimmond said. 

Jack recovered from his disappointment quickly.  “And?  What did she say?”

“A man and his son went out to the Patapsco River early this morning to fish and found her unconscious, hanging onto a log by the side of the river.  That’s about four miles downriver from where Akilah Jackson’s body was found, but there’s no way of telling how far down she drifted before she was discovered.  The man who found her thought she was dead at first till he poked her and she groaned.  He called the police right away.” 

“But did she tell you anything?” Jack asked impatiently.  “Do we know who Casanova is?” 

The doctor spoke up now.  “She’s suffering from shock, has bruises and contusions on her face and body, and suffered a broken arm.  She woke up briefly but wasn’t really coherent.  She wasn’t making any sense.” 

“But at least she's alive,” Jack said.  “Eventually she’ll be able to talk and she can tell us who he is and where the others are, and we’ll catch that sonofabitch and put him away for life.” 

Detectives Dimmond and Dolarhyde both nodded in agreement.  “We’re going back out to where she was found right now, see if we can find any clues,” Detective Dimmond said.  “The chief’s already out there with a team of people going up both sides of the river bank starting from the location she was found looking for the place she went into the water.  Plus the chief called a guy down in Tennessee who has bloodhounds. He’s coming up here to help with the search, and he should be here tomorrow.”  He looked at the doctor then and said, “Call the station immediately if her condition changes.”  Then he and the ever silent Detective Dolarhyde left the hospital.    

“Doctor,” Jack asked, “can you give us any kind of estimate when you think she might be able to talk to us?”

“What concerns me is her behavior,” he said.  “It suggests psychological trauma.  She was only awake a few minutes, but she was rambling, not making any sense.  Ms. Hobbs appears to be suffering from posttraumatic shock.  There's no telling when she'll be lucid.  It could be hours or days. You gentlemen have to remember that this girl is very lucky to be alive.” 

“Can you at least tell us your best guess?” Jack asked, looking almost desperate. 

“I’m sorry, but …”

“Dr. Samuels,” Hannibal interrupted, looking at the doctor’s nametag.  “Pardon me for interrupting, but my name is Dr. Hannibal Lecter.” 

“Oh, yes, Dr. Lecter, I know who you are.  I’ve read some of your papers,” he said smiling and shaking Dr. Lecter’s hand.    

“I'm consulting with the local police and the FBI on this case.  This is Jack Crawford and Will Graham from the FBI.  Jack’s niece was kidnapped by Casanova,” Dr. Lecter said, waiting a beat to let that sink in.  “And I believe Bethany Silversmith was a doctor at this hospital, if I’m not mistaken,” Dr. Lecter added gently. 

“Yes, she was,” Dr. Samuels said frowning and looking upset now.  “She was a wonderful doctor and a very kind person.  We were all devastated when she disappeared.” 

“We need to stop Casanova before he takes any others.  Before he _kills_ any others, Dr. Samuels, so we really need to see Abigail Hobbs.  As a psychiatrist, perhaps I can help.”

Dr. Samuels looked torn, but he finally nodded and said, “Yes, maybe as a psychiatrist you could help us diagnose her condition more accurately.  All right, follow me, gentlemen,” he said, leading them to Abigail Hobbs’ room. 

Fortunately Abigail had her own private room.  Will frowned as he compared the bruised and battered face with the beautiful flawless face in the picture he had seen.   

Abigail was asleep or unconscious, but every now and then her body would twitch. 

“This girl is a fighter,” Dr. Samuels said, as they all looked down at her.   

“There’s no doubt about that,” Jack said, and Will saw tears in his eyes. 

“Although we’re certain she’s suffering from posttraumatic shock,” the doctor continued, “that doesn’t explain why her vitals are meandering downhill.  Everything is systematically shutting down and we can’t find the cause.” 

“And of course you screened her for drugs?” Dr. Lecter asked. 

“Yes, we did.  Her blood and her urine are clean.  Something is doing damage to this girl that we can’t find.  Whoever did this is cunning,” the doctor said. 

“Yes, he's cunning, but he doesn't know his history,” Will said.

“Hmm?”

“The real Casanova would never have approved.” 

The doctor nodded.  “Well, excuse me, gentlemen, but I have to make my rounds.  I’ll be back later to check on her.  Have the nurse’s station page me if you need me,” he said, then walked out the door. 

Dr. Lecter grabbed her chart from a slot outside the door and studied it for a few minutes. 

“You’re able to understand her chart?” Will asked. 

“I was a doctor at one time.  I worked in an ER until one of my patients died; then I decided to devote my life to maladies of the mind instead of the body.  It seemed safer.” 

Dr. Lecter scanned the chart.  “Nonresponsive pupils, progressive loss of muscular control, escalating tremors...  Hmm.  Excuse me, gentlemen.” 

Will and Jack exchanged puzzled looks as Dr. Lecter left the room.  When he came back a few minutes later he had a thick book in his hands. 

“What’s that?” Jack asked. 

“It’s a copy of the _Physician’s Desk Reference_.  I got it from the nurse’s station. 

“What are you thinking, Dr. Lecter?” Jack asked. 

“I’m thinking I may have read about something similar to this before, but it’s been so long ago that I can’t really remember.  As I recall, though, it had something to do with the diazepine family.  Just let me look through the book and it may come to me.” 

Thirty minutes went by and the only sounds were the occasional swish as Dr. Lecter turned a page and Jack’s persistent pacing. 

“Jack, why don’t you go back to the motel and get some rest, call Bella.  I’ll call you if there’s any change in Abigail’s condition,” Will said. 

Jack rubbed his face tiredly and, looking at Abigail, finally said, “Okay.  But call me the second her condition changes.” 

“I promise,” Wil said. 

Jack left the room and Will let out a very audible sigh of relief.  When Dr. Lecter looked over at him he smiled sheepishly and said, “Jack can be a little intense.” 

“It must be hard to be constantly in-tune with people’s emotions,” Hannibal said. 

“And it’s also exhausting.  I have to say that you’re exceptionally good about keeping your emotions hidden.  They barely ping on my empathy radar.  It makes it rather peaceful being around you.  No doubt that’s due to your job, always having to keep your emotions hidden in front of your patients.” 

“Yes, that’s probably it,” Hannibal said, smiling. 

“Well,” he said, standing up and stretching, “I’m going to the machine down the hall and get some coffee.  Can I get you anything?” 

“Machine coffee tastes like sludge,” Dr. Lecter said, shuddering in distaste. 

“I would definitely prefer some of that fancy coffee that you make, but since we don’t have any right now, I’ll have to make due,” he said smiling tiredly as he walked out the door. 

Hannibal stared at the doorway a few seconds.  Empathy was a doubled edged sword.  He could see now why Will was so uncomfortable around people, especially strangers, and why he avoided eye contact.  He imagined that Will normally led a solitary life, accompanied only by a pet or two so he wasn’t totally alone, as evidenced by the hair he was constantly picking off his clothes.  His gift also made him extremely dangerous to be around.  Hannibal went back to perusing the pages in the book. 

When Will came back with his coffee, he pulled a chair right next to Abigail’s bed and took hold of her hand, running his thumb gently back and forth along the top of it while sipping his coffee and grimacing. 

An hour later Hannibal tapped the book and said, “I’ve got it.” 

“Huh?” Will said.  He had been halfway dozing. 

“I’m going to get the doctor.  I think I know what’s causing this.”  Hannibal said, leaving the room.  He came back ten minutes with the doctor in tow. 

“A heavy dose of benzodiazepine would explain her symptoms,” Hannibal said.

“Yes,” the doctor said, “but every drug in the benzo family shows up in blood and urine.”

“All except sistol,” Hannibal countered.  “It's a benzo cousin.  Leukemia specialists are using it to take the edge off chemo.”

“Is it an amnesiac?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, I’ll give her a dose of librium which should counteract the sistol and we'll see what your theory is made of.” 

The doctor left and came back five minutes later with a syringe and injected a clear liquid into the medication port of Abigail’s IV bag which was hydrating her.  “If you’re right, she should be improved by morning,” the doctor said.  “Have me paged if there are any changes, good or bad.  Goodnight, gentlemen.”

Hannibal moved his chair over to the other side of Abigail’s bed, looking exhausted. 

“You don’t have to stay, Dr. Lecter.  Why don’t you go home and get some rest as well.  I’ll stay with her.” 

“Aren’t you exhausted, Will?” 

“Yes.  But I tend to have nightmares when I sleep, especially when I’m on a case, so I’d just as soon stay here with her.  Besides, I’m armed just in case Casanova decides to pay Abigail a visit and finish the job.” 

Hannibal had already suspected the nightmares yesterday morning when Will had answered the door covered in sweat.  “Well, I’m staying too.”  He took hold of Abigail’s other hand and the two men leaned back in their chairs to watch and wait for any change in Abigail’s condition.  “You’re safe now, Abigail,” Hannibal said gently. 

Will looked over at the man in surprise.  Dr. Lecter was a hard man to read, he had strong shields of his own, but what little Will could read he would have sworn that this was a man not taken to sentimentality.  But maybe he had read him wrong. 

*     *     *     *     *

Casanova was angry with himself.  Abigail Hobbs should never have been able to escape him.  He’d been careless, sloppy, and the girl had managed not only to get by him, but to make her way outside.  Even so, he still should have been able to catch her, but he had to admit that he never would have foreseen her jumping off that cliff like she did to escape him.  He had clearly underestimated her courage and resolve, and he had to admit that he was impressed despite himself.  Still, it should have never reached that point.  It didn’t really matter in the long-run.  The dosage of drug he had put in her food was slow acting but lethal, and she would be dead within the next 12 hours if not treated.  The beauty of the drug is that it’s nearly impossible to identify.  The coroner certainly hadn’t been able to detect it in Akilah Jackson’s body.  And even if it was somehow miraculously identified and she was treated, there were several reasons he never showed his face to any of the captives, and this was one of them.  It paid to be cautious. 

He had to confess to a bit of concern that the FBI and Dr. Lecter were in the hospital now.  He had been keeping close tabs on the FBI since they arrived in Baltimore, and, seeing for himself how persistent they were, they would probably find a way to finagle their way into Abigail's room to see her...not that it would do them any good.  But, still, he had to admit that they were a bit more of a threat than he had originally thought.  Jack Crawford was relentless in his search for his niece, finding new threads and making the right connections in regards to how he was targeting his choices.  And Will Graham…now he was the biggest surprise of all.  That profile that he did at the crime scene, and Dr. Chilton’s interview … the more he heard about Will Graham, the more fascinated he became and the more concerned he became.  This one was potentially dangerous.  And why was Dr. Lecter now hanging around with the FBI, adding the strength of a well-known psychiatrist and profiler to their team?  No, if he were being honest with himself, he admitted to having a few concerns.  And it also bothered him that with Abigail’s escape the FBI would now think he was fallible, that he made mistakes.  It would add to their confidence thinking that he would slip up and that they would catch him.  His pride had certainly taken a blow.  So, maybe it was time to gain back a little ground he had lost and turn up the heat, engage them, rattle their cage a little bit, go after their weakest link.  In this instance their weakest link … was Jack Crawford.  And, of course, it appeared that he now had a vacancy to fill, an empty room in need of an occupant.  He smiled then.  It was time to plan his next hunt and select his prey.  There was always a silver lining if you knew where to look for it.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter Jack, Will and Hannibal have a talk with Abigail, and out of desperation Jack makes a questionable decision. 
> 
> I received emails that I received two comments on the last chapter that didn't show up in the comments section, as you can see, and I wasn't able to respond to them through the email link either. So Archive apparently ate them. and I sent them an email and they're looking into it. But I'm going to reply to you two right here and now so you don't think I don't appreciate you ... 'cause I do. And let's just hope I don't lose any more comments, because I live for them! 
> 
> Yanzebilo commented: "Won't who is he gonna replace." My Reply: As you can see, he's already started thinking about it, so you'll find out in a couple more chapters who the replacement is! Bet you can guess!  
> Jowlissavdw commented: "God I can't wait for the next chapter." My Reply: You have no idea how much I love comments like this. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. :)


	8. Chapter 8

“Who are you?  Hey, who are you guys?”

Will opened his eyes, feeling groggy and disoriented, and looked up into the confused and distressed blue eyes of Abigail Hobbs, who was sitting up in her bed now.  He sat up in his chair and noticed the sun shining through the cracks in the drapes, which told him it was morning now.  He felt excitement course through him as he realized that the drug had worked. Dr. Lecter had been right!  He looked over the top of bed and smiled at the slightly sleep tousled man on the other side, who was awake now as well.    

"My name is Will Graham, Abigail, and I'm with the FBI," he said in a soft and hopefully reassuring voice, and this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter.  You’re at John Hopkins Hospital and you are safe.  Everything is alright now."

At first, Abigail Hobbs looked as if she might cry, but then she seemed to get control of herself. Watching the inner struggle take place, Will could understand how she had survived both Casanova and the river. This was a very strong young woman. 

"I'm in a hospital?" Her words were slightly slurred, but at least she was coherent.

"Yes, that's right," Will said.  “And you're safe.  Let me run and get the doctor.  I'll be right back."

"Hold on a minute,” she said, putting out a hand to stop him.  “You're with the FBI?  So you’re trying to catch him?  Casanova, I mean." 

Will nodded with an excited feeling of anticipation.  This was it.  They would have all the answers very soon.  He wanted to ask her about a hundred questions, but he should let the doctor check her over first.

“How did I end up in the hospital?” she asked, looking like she was struggling to remember. 

“A man and his son went to the Patapsco River to fish and found you in the river clinging to a log.  But you’ve been through a lot and the doctor should really check you over before we talk,” he said, giving Hannibal a meaningful look. 

"I’ll get the doctor,” Hannibal offered, heading for the door. 

“And call Jack,” Will said to his retreating back.  “I told him I’d call him as soon as there was a change in her condition.” 

Hannibal left the room, pulling out his cell phone. 

“I was afraid I was dreaming,” Abigail said, worrying the sheet between her hands.  “He drugged us sometimes.  He drugged me before I escaped.  He was going to kill me, I know it!” she said, getting upset. 

“Well you’re safe now, Abigail,” Will said, feeling her turbulent emotions.  “He can’t get you here.” 

Will saw her licking her dry lips and grabbed a container off the bedside table with a sippy straw in it and held it up to her lips.  She drank thirstily. 

"You are one brave girl, Abigail Hobbs.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes.  "Sorry," she said, “but I don’t feel brave.  I tried so hard not to cry in that horrible place.  I didn't want him to think I was weak.  I don’t think I can stop it now, though,” she said, lower lip trembling and tears starting to trail down her cheeks. 

Once Abigail started to cry, all the pent up stress and fear and pain that she had been feeling and keeping inside broke free like a dam, turning into heartbreaking sobs.  Will stood there feeling helpless, not knowing what to do.  Finally he sat on the edge of her bed and put his arm lightly around her, ready to pull back if she cringed at this touch, but she leaned into him, seeking solace, and he felt tears trailing down his own face as he was suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of her emotions.  He rubbed her back soothingly and together they wept. 

Dr. Lecter came back with Dr. Samuels and a nurse in tow, and they all froze at the sight of the two crying, nobody seeming to know what to do.  Finally the doctor cleared his throat loudly to let them know they were there, and Will pulled away and stood up, quickly drying his eyes on his sleeve.  He and Hannibal stepped out of the room while the doctor did his examination, and Will kept his eyes on the ground the entire time. 

When Dr. Samuels stepped back out of the room he said, “Her vitals are much better.  She’s well on her way to recovery.  You were certainly right, Dr. Lecter,” he said smiling.  “Now all she needs is time and rest.  And perhaps a little breakfast,” he added, making some notes in her chart.  “I’ll have something sent up right away.”   Slipping the chart back in the slot outside the door, he walked away with the nurse trailing behind him.    

“You get ahold of Jack?” Will asked, eyes red now from crying. 

“He’s on his way,” Hannibal said, watching Will curiously. 

“Did you call the police as well to let them know she’s awake?” Will asked. 

“I thought I would give you and Jack a few minutes with her first before I did that,” Hannibal said. 

Will looked at him in surprise.  He was supposed to be working with the Baltimore P.D. on the case, but it seemed like he was more inclined to help the FBI for some reason. 

Will and Hannibal waited for Jack to arrive before attempting to ask Abigail any questions about the case.  Will attempted a little small talk, like asking if her family lived in town, but her family lived in Minnesota and she was just here in Baltimore attending college.  It was her dream to set up an animal clinic back home after she graduated.  A light breakfast was brought in shortly thereafter and she was able to eat a little toast and a couple bites of scrambled egg and drink her orange juice clumsily using her left hand since her right arm was in a cast.  The bruises on her face also made eating a bit painful. 

When Jack arrived, he came in looking as tense as he was last night.  Will noticed the dark circles under his eyes indicating he hadn’t gotten much sleep. 

“Abigail,” Will started off, cutting off Jack before he said anything, worrying he would frighten her as intense as he looked, “this is Jack Crawford.  He’s also with the FBI.  His niece was kidnapped by Casanova,” he said softly.  “Did you happen to see any others where you were being held?” 

“There were others there,” Abigail said. 

“Was there a Cassandra?!” Jack cut in.  Cassandra Crawford! 

“I don’t remember a Cassandra …  Oh, wait, I remember … the new girl.  She said her name is Cassandra but her friends call her Keke!” 

“Thank god,” Jack said, closing his eyes, a look of extreme relief on his face now.   

“There was also an Alana, Rosita, Chandler, Donna and Kelli.  They were still there.  There was a black girl with braids, but she disappeared.” 

Jack, Will and Hannibal exchanged looks but didn’t say anything about Akilah Jackson being found dead, not wanting to upset Abigail.  She would find that out soon enough. 

“What about a Bethany?” Will asked.  “She was a doctor with blond hair and gray eyes.” 

“No, there was no one like that.  But one of the others, who said she was one of the first ones taken, said there was a blond girl who disappeared a couple of months after she arrived,” Abigail said. 

So Casanova had killed Bethany Silversmith before he had taken Abigail, Will thought.  But no one had found poor Bethany’s body yet.  That made two that he had killed, but at least the others were still alive.  At least for now.  Will was worried what Casanova would do now that one of his victims had escaped. 

Abigail,” Jack asked, looking hopeful, “do you know who Casanova is?  What his real name is?”

They all waited, holding their breath.  This was it. 

“I’m sorry, he always called himself Casanova.  I don’t know what his real name is,” she said looking between the three of them, her eyes filling with tears. 

“That’s all right, Abigail,” Will cut in, giving Jack a look of warning.  “Did you happen to recognize him?  Did he look familiar to you at all?  Do you think you might be able to describe him to a sketch artist?” he prompted.

Abigail was visibly upset now.  “He always wore this creepy black stocking over his face.  I never saw his face.” 

 _Shit!_   Will had suspected as much.  “That’s all right,” Will continued soothingly, hating that he was pushing her but knowing they needed something if they were going to find the others.  “How about physical characteristics?  Was he white?  Black?  Tall?  Short?  Thin?  Muscular?  Any distinguishing marks, scars, or tattoos?  Did he have a distinctive smell, like from cologne or gum or something else?” 

“He was white, tall, muscular.  He had a nice body and he knew it.  He liked to parade around naked a lot.  I didn’t see any tattoos or marks or anything, and he didn’t wear cologne.”  

“What about his voice?  Anything distinctive, like an accent or an unusual phrase he liked to use?” 

“He had a nice voice, kind of deep and rich like the kind of voice you might hear on the radio.  No accent, no unusual phrases that I can remember.” 

“How about when you escaped wherever you were held?” Will tried, changing tact.  “Can you describe the structure he was keeping you in?  Were there any landmarks around the area when you escaped that might give us an idea where to look?  Can you tell us how you wound up in the river?”  

“I disobeyed him by talking to the others and he drugged my food.  He was going to kill me, I know it, so when he came for me I hit him with a book and ran.  The drug he gave me was making me disoriented.  I was hallucinating.  I was running around the house but there were no windows and I couldn’t find any doors.  Then all of a sudden I found myself outside.  I looked around but the house was gone,” she said distressed.  “I ran and he was chasing me.  He cornered me at the edge of a cliff and I jumped because I knew he was going to kill me.  I wanted to escape and get help for the others too, but I don’t know where they are,” she said, looking distraught, tears trailing down her face.  “I just left them all there and I don’t know where they are!” she said sobbing loudly now. 

Just then Chief Hatfield entered the room with Detectives Dimmond and Dolarhyde behind him.  Dr. Lecter hadn’t called them, but Dr. Samuels must have.  The chief froze, looking between the three of them and a sobbing Abigail Hobbs, and then with a furious look on his face he signaled them out of the room and closed the door. 

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing questioning the witness before us?” the chief practically snarled. 

“We spent the night with her,” Dr. Lecter spoke up.  “We were worried about her condition and wanted to keep an eye on her.” 

“And it was Dr. Lecter who figured out what was wrong with her,” Will chimed in.  “She might be dead if it wasn’t for him.” 

Chief Hatfield looked between the three of them.  “Well?  Did she give you a name?” 

“No name, she never saw his face, and she has no idea where she was kept,” Jack said frustrated.  “Looks like we’re back to square one.” 

“Shit!” Chief Hatfield said.  Then he signaled for the two detectives to follow him into Abigail’s room and he shut the door behind them. 

“How the hell does a house just disappear?” Jack asked. 

“Well, she did admit that the drug he gave her was making her hallucinate,” Will said.  “So, what’s our next step?” 

“We find out the exact location where Abigail was pulled out of the river.  The police are already checking up the river trying to find the point where she went into the water.  Maybe we can check county records, see if there are any old homesteads up the river within a 20 mile radius of where she was found.  She mentioned jumping off a cliff.  We can look into that as well.” 

As they walked toward the front door of the hospital they saw a gathering crowd of people and news trucks outside, but police were already stationed at the door preventing them from coming in.    

“Well, the press has apparently caught wind of this.  They’re going to have a field day.  Let’s find an alternate exit,” Jack said. 

 

They spent the next several hours at the Baltimore County Land Records Office exploring maps and property records looking for anything, any kind of structure on either side of the river up from where Abigail was found.  The records turned up nothing.  There were a couple of residences within a 20 mile radius, but after checking them out they were no closer to finding the mysterious disappearing house.  Will could tell Jack was nearly at the end of his rope.  He had had such high hopes that Abigail would lead them right to Casanova and to his niece, and this had been a devastating blow. 

They were just leaving the land records office when Jack’s cell phone pinged. 

“It’s the coroner’s report,” he said anxiously, pulling up the report on his phone and scrolling through it quickly. 

Will and Hannibal both watched his face.  The farther down he scrolled, the more pronounced the frown on his face became, and at one point he even got red in the face, looking angry. 

“You were right, Will,” he said, looking bitter.  “There were no fingerprints on the body, no foreign hairs, no saliva, no semen, and nothing under the victim’s fingernails.”  The actual cause of death is listed as dehydration.    

Jack forwarded a copy to both Will and Hannibal, and as Will read through the report, toward the end he read, quote “An examination of the victim shows that she was raped enthusiastically by a well-endowed male as evidenced by vaginal tearing and bruising, but no seminal fluid was present,” end quote.  That was probably the point where Jack had gotten red in the face, no doubt thinking about his niece. 

As it grew late on yet another unproductive day, Hannibal said, “Why don’t the two of you come home with me and I’ll fix us something to eat.  You must both be hungry and I find it’s hard to think clearly on an empty stomach.  As I already told Will, cooking is a passion of mine, and we can certainly brainstorm some more over dinner.” 

“We’d love to, Dr. Lecter,” Jack said immediately.  Jack was not ready to go back to the motel and call his brother.  He had called him last night and told him that Abigail Hobbs had been found and that he would be getting answers very soon, and his brother and his wife had been so excited and hopeful.  He would do anything right now to delay making what would most definitely be an extremely painful and emotional phone call.  But at least he could tell them that Keke was still alive.  That was something at least.      

Will rode with Jack, following Dr. Lecter to his home, and as they arrived Will marveled at how beautiful and upscale the building was, although he shouldn’t have.  Anyone who wore three piece suits all the time and drove a Bentley wouldn’t live in a shack.  As Hannibal led them through a couple of beautifully furnished rooms, Will took in the color palette, the beautiful furnishings, the museum grade pieces.   They ended up in a state-of-the-art kitchen with marble counters and gleaming stainless steel surfaces.  Hannibal poured three glasses of wine, removed his jacket and vest, rolled up his sleeves and got to work on dinner. 

Will sipped his wine and watched how easily Dr. Lecter moved in the kitchen and how skilled he was with a knife.  He was fascinated watching how quickly and evenly he chopped vegetables.  He also noticed objectively that Dr. Lecter had very muscular forearms for a psychiatrist.  Maybe he worked out at a gym.   

“So,” Jack said, after taking an appreciative sip of the wine, “how did Casanova get that drug that he used on Abigail?  Is that an easy drug to obtain, Dr. Lecter?” 

“No, not at all,” Dr. Lecter said, beating some sort of flour mixture.  “He would have needed a licensed medical number to order a drug like that.” 

“Can a psychiatrist order a drug like that?” Jack asked.   

“Psychiatrists are medical doctors who specialize in mental health issues, so the answer is yes, psychiatrists can order any drug a doctor can order,” Hannibal answered. 

“So, you would have been able to order that drug,” Jack said.    

“Technically, yes.  But last time I checked I wasn’t a suspect,” Hannibal said glancing up at Jack and smiling. 

“So Casanova could be a doctor or a psychiatrist,” Jack said.  “Frederick Chilton is looking more and more like Casanova to me.”    

“Or,” Will cut in, “isn’t it more likely that Casanova persuaded either _Dr._ Bethany Silversmith or Alana Bloom to tell him their numbers and used them to order the drugs?  Bethany Silversmith worked as a pediatric oncologist, and Dr. Lecter said the drug used on Abigail is used on cancer patients, so she would be familiar with it.  It might also be the reason he chose to target two doctors first.” 

Hannibal had already thought of that but hadn’t shared it with the police or FBI.  He wasn’t going to offer up any help that might bring this case to a speedier conclusion due to the fact that he was learning so much about the investigative techniques of both the police and FBI, and, quite frankly, enjoying himself as well. 

“Good thinking!” Jack said.  “I’ll call the Bureau first thing tomorrow and have them find out what their numbers are and see if any drug orders were placed using those numbers in the last seven months, and, more importantly, where they were sent.  But in the meantime, I say it’s time we step outside the box and make something happen,” Jack said, draining his wine glass and helping himself to more.  “I want to break into Dr. Chilton’s home and look for anything incriminating.” 

Will exchanged a shocked look with Hannibal. 

“Jack, you can’t seriously …”

“Oh, I know the kidnapped victims won’t be there, but there may be something to implicate him.  Dr. Lecter, obviously I’m not asking you to be a part of this.” 

“Jack,” Will said, “Despite the rumors on Dr. Chilton and what he sounded like in that interview, Dr. Lecter and I both told you that we don’t think Dr. Chilton could possibly be Casanova.” 

“Well, you’ll both pardon me for saying this, but I’m not convinced.  You can either come with me or I’ll do it on my own.  Either way I’m going,” Jack said, draining his second glass of wine.  “Excuse me, I need to use the facilities,” he said, excusing himself as Hannibal pointed him in the right direction. 

“You need to help me talk him out of this,” Will said as soon as he was gone.  “Abigail Hobbs didn’t pan out so he’s desperately grasping at straws right now.  He could lose his job if he’s caught.  He could be arrested.  We both could,” he said, running his hand through his hair.    

“Well, I can certainly try, but if he’s determined to go through with this then maybe it’s best if we both go with him, keep things under control, try to minimize the damage.  The need to find his niece is causing him an undue amount of stress and causing him to act irrationally, I fear,” Dr. Lecter said. 

“This is not good,” Will said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking slightly flushed.  “It just feels like this whole thing is getting out of control.” 

Hannibal turned back to his cooking and smiled.  He had to admit he was enjoying watching the dynamics going on between Jack and Will.  Jack was stressed and near the breaking point and it was affecting his judgment, and apparently he was willing to risk his career by going outside the law, and it seemed he had no qualms about taking Will down with him.  Hannibal had no concerns about his own career, he was just eager to see how this little adventure was going to play out. 

 

Will couldn’t remember the last time he had sat down to a nice home-cooked meal like this, and he had to admit that Dr. Lecter was one hell of a cook.  He couldn’t pronounce whatever it was that Dr. Lecter said the dish was called, but everything had looked beautiful and smelled wonderful and tasted delicious.  He was full and sleepy now, ready to turn in for the night … unfortunately, even with Dr. Lecter’s help, they hadn’t been able to talk Jack out of wanting to break into Dr. Chilton’s house.  Will had tried everything he could think of to talk him out of it; had even tried talking him into postponing it for 24 hours hoping that sanity would return to him by then, but Jack wouldn’t budge.  Now Will’s only hope was that Dr. Chilton was actually home, which would derail Jack’s plans.    

It was a little after 8:00 p.m. when the three of them got into Jack’s car and took off, headed for the freeway that would take them to the town Dr. Chilton lived in.  Will put his head back and closed his eyes and said a quick prayer that Dr. Chilton was home tonight reading a book or watching television.  As Jack pulled the car onto the freeway, none of the three of them were aware of the dark car that was following them at a very discrete distance, the same car that had been tailing them since they left the land records office earlier in the evening, a car that was being driven by Casanova. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter … let the games begin!


	9. Chapter 9

According to MapQuest it was only a 12 minute drive to Fell’s Point, the neighborhood where Dr. Chilton lived.  Fell’s Point turned out to be a beautiful, affluent neighborhood at the southernmost point of Baltimore which ironically sat on the northwest branch of the Patapsco River, a branch of the same river that Abigail Hobbs had been pulled out of.  Jack turned onto Pershing Circle and parked across the street from Dr. Chilton’s house and sat there with the engine running, watching for signs of activity. 

“All the lights are all off,” Jack said.  “It looks like he’s out.  He’s probably out having sex with another one of the students,” he said disgustedly, turning off the ignition. 

 

Casanova had been discretely tailing Jack Crawford and company most of the afternoon from the point when they left the land records office.  He wanted to see for himself what they were up to.  It seemed they were always up to something, the busy little bees, such as buzzing around Abigail Hobbs and diagnosing the drug he had used on her.  That had been an unwelcome surprise, and it was his understanding that he had Dr. Lecter to thank for that one.  Now Abigail was expected to make a full recovery.  Just how a psychiatrist had been able to diagnose that particular drug he had he had no idea, but he was growing more and more concerned about these three and it was time to do something about it. 

He had followed them to Dr. Lecter’s impressive home and had sat outside waiting for a while, and just when he was about to call it a night and go visit his collection and get rid of some of his pent up frustration and aggression, all three of them had unexpectedly come out of the house and had gotten into Jack Crawford’s car and driven off.  Just where the hell would the three of them be going at 8:00 at night?  Were they maybe going to a bar to get drunk?  That could actually be interesting to watch…get a few drinks in them and see what happened. 

He followed them, staying well back, and had been surprised when Jack Crawford had driven to Fell’s Point and had turned down Pershing Circle, the street he knew Frederick Chilton lived on.  Curiosity peaked, he shut off his headlights and turned onto Pershing and immediately pulled over.  He spotted Jack’s car parked down toward the end of the street across from Dr. Chilton’s house.  Just what the hell were they up to now? 

He pulled a small pair of binoculars out of his glove compartment and tried to see what was going on inside the car, but it was dark and all he saw were vague shadowy movements.  He sat back and waited.  He didn’t have to wait long before the three got out of the car and walked toward Dr. Chilton’s house.  Were they planning on having a conversation with him?  He couldn’t see that going over very well. 

He lost sight of them once they stepped onto Dr. Chilton’s property due to the tall privacy hedges Dr. Chilton had on either side of his house, so he pulled on a baseball cap and got out of his car to investigate.  He walked slowly down the sidewalk toward the house, ready to turn around at a moment’s notice if he caught sight of them.  But when he was in visual of Dr. Chilton’s front door…they weren’t there.  There was no sign of them.  There were also no lights on in the house.  The only conclusion he could reach was that they had gone around to the back of the house.  But why?  Were our three heroes up to some sort of naughtiness? 

He went back and got in his car and waited, thinking.  He came to the delightful conclusion that they must be breaking into Dr. Chilton’s home to look for clues because they believed Dr. Chilton to be him.  As if.  How desperate they must be to go outside the law like this.  Casanova was filled with a giddy sense of power knowing that he was the one who had driven them to this. 

He thought about all he knew of Frederick Chilton and decided that the FBI agents were bound to find something in his house that might make him look guilty.  He leaned back in the seat and let ideas flow.  One particular idea slowly started taking shape.  This might actually work to his advantage.  He pulled out one of several burner phones he kept in the glove compartment and made a phone call.  He then drove off, waiting for the game to begin. 

 

Will picked the lock to Dr. Chilton’s back door and pushed it open, praying that he didn’t have an alarm system in place.  No alarm went off, but he did a quick swept through the house just to be sure, looking for signs of a silent alarm system, and after finding none he felt a little calmer. 

They went through the house quickly and methodically.  The inside of the house was as neat and orderly as the outside grounds.  Maybe even more so.  Almost too neat, Will thought, as if Dr. Chilton didn’t spend much time here. 

They went from room to room looking for anything out of the ordinary.  Will was on edge thinking that any minute now Dr. Chilton could come home and discover three unwanted intruders in his house, or possibly that one of the neighbors had spotted them and had called the police.  Chief Hatfield would have a field day. 

Every room seemed fine, nothing out of place.  The house was decorated in black and white and chrome, very masculine, but rather sparse.  There was nothing that really gave you an impression of what kind of man he really was, with the possible exception of the bathroom which contained a rather large number of grooming products, but that was hardly a surprise. 

A small study contained a desk, a computer, bookshelves filled with books and magazines related to his profession … again, nothing out of the ordinary. 

Will could see Jack was getting frustrated.  He had been so sure he was going to find something that would point to Dr. Chilton being Casanova. 

There was a door that led down into a basement.  The three went down, and at first glance it looked like the usual stuff you would find in a basement…until they spotted a steel door.  It was unlocked, and when they opened it, it proved to be nothing more than a furnace room.  But before closing the door Dr. Lecter pointed at another steel door on the back wall of the furnace room that they had almost missed seeing.  It was probably just a closet or storage room, but they headed for it.  This one, however, was locked with a padlock.  Jack held a flashlight on the lock while Will quickly picked it.  Jack opened the door and stepped inside first.  It was pitch black inside.  The furnace room had no windows, and neither did this room. 

They all three felt along the wall until one of them found a switch and flipped it on. 

They all froze, stunned, as they looked around.  The room was huge, at least twenty by thirty feet.  There were no people hidden down here, but what was down here was apparently Dr. Chilton’s fantasy room. It was right in his house tucked away in a secret corner of his basement. The room didn't fit in with the design of the rest of the house so he must have had this room added on.  

One corner of the room was laid out like a library. There was a heavy oak desk, and two red leather club chairs on either side of it.  Against two of the walls there were floor to ceiling bookcases that were filled with books and magazines containing a vast collection of pornography and erotica. There were at least a thousand books on those shelves. Will read some of the titles: 

_Strangest Sex Acts in Modes of Love of All Races_

_Illustrated Cherries_

_Humiliation and Pleasure_

_The Penetrated Male_

_Exhibitionism for the Shy_

_A Medico-Legal Study in Rape_

On the opposite side of the room there was a large bed with black silk sheets, and nearby displayed on a long table was a collection of whips, handcuffs, rope, leather bindings, silk bindings, chains, dildos, and frankly several items that Will had no clue as to what they were.  He saw Dr. Lecter curiously studying several items. 

There was a flat screen TV in another corner of the room with over a hundred DVD’s in clear cases marked simply with numbers.  Will also saw a video camera set up on a tripod.  Dr. Chilton must film the goings on down here and enjoy watching them back. 

Will wondered if Dr. Chilton brought his student conquests down here and played out all his dirty little fantasies in this room stimulated by his sex toys and his collection of erotica.

Then Jack was snapping his fingers and waving them back over to the bookcases and pointing at something on one of the shelves.  There were several books on Casanova:  _Memoirs by Casanova, Casanova: The World of a Seductive Genius, The Most Wonderful Nights of Love of Casanova._

They all froze as they heard a noise upstairs, but there was no other sound.  It might have simply been an electrical appliance, or just the wind, but it was a reminder that they had been here long enough and Dr. Chilton could come home at any minute. 

Jack gave the signal to leave, seeming satisfied. 

They left the room and re-padlocked the door, and the three moved back into the main part of the basement where they could at least see. 

“So, what now, Jack” Will asked as they moved toward the staircase.  “It’s not like we can tell Baltimore P.D. that Dr. Chilton has a secret sex room full of porn and handcuffs and bondage rope and that he has several Casanova books.  Everything we saw is circumstantial anyway.  Nothing there is indisputable proof that Dr. Chilton is Casanova.” 

“One of us can call the Casanova tip line, disguising our voice, of course, and leave an anonymous tip of some sort that will give the police an excuse to search the house.  We just have to come up with something they can’t ignore that sounds feasible.  He has all those DVDs and it’s possible he filmed himself with some of the victims and brought them back here to watch.  We need to get a look at those.” 

“Well what if …” 

Jack had set his phone on vibrate and it vibrated then, making the man jump slightly, his nerves strung tight.  He pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen.  “It’s Chief Hatfield,” he said, looking surprised.  “Maybe he found something.  Yes, Chief,” he said, answering the call. 

Will watched Jack’s face as it went from confused to surprised to stunned to panicked.  “Right now?  You’re five minutes away?  Yes, Chief, thank you.  We’re on our way.  We’ll be there soon.”  Hanging up he said, “ _OUT OF HERE—NOW!!_ ” 

Picking up on Jack’s panic, Will and Hannibal ran up the stairs and out the back door with Jack on their tail.  Will was fumbling with his tools to relock the back door but Jack said, “No time for that—leave it!” 

They rushed to the car and Will saw Jack glance toward the freeway, which was visible from here.  When he followed the direction of Jack’s gaze he saw a row of six cars driving close together in single-file formation which clearly said law enforcement.  And they were headed in this direction.  All of a sudden Jack saying “five minutes away” on the phone made sense.  The police were on their way here, less than five minutes away now. 

Fortunately they hadn’t locked their car doors and they scrambled in quickly, but as Jack got his keys out of his pocket, he fumbled them and dropped them and had to feel around blindly on the dark floor until he finally located them.  He then jammed the car key into the ignition and started it up.  They might have been fine at that point if Dr. Chilton had lived on a regular street.  They could have easily just driven off, away from the direction the police were coming from.  Unfortunately, Pershing Circle was a cul du sac, which meant the street dead-ended and there was only one way in and out. 

Jack did a quick U-turn and headed back the way they came.  He was driving down the street as fast as he could without looking suspicious.  He stopped at the crossing and Will could see the cars approaching from his right, only about a block away now, the glare from the lead car’s headlights starting to shine on his window.  He instinctively crouched down to avoid being seen.  Jack pulled the car out into the intersection and turned left, and although he kept the car slow and steady, he was white knuckling the steering wheel. 

After the turn was completed Will and Hannibal both turned around and watched, waiting to make sure all six cars turned onto Pershing.  Will saw that Jack kept glancing in his rearview mirror.  Although Jack’s car was a fairly common make and model, his license plate was obviously unique, and if it had been spotted by one of the cars, the police would have known that they had already been on Dr. Chilton’s block.  That would have been hard to explain.  Will’s heart was hammering in his chest as he turned back around front.  That had been much too close. 

“What the hell just happened, Jack?  What did Chief Hatfield call you about, and why are the police headed for Dr. Chilton’s house?” Will asked. 

“Chief Hatfield called to say that around 30 minutes ago they received an anonymous call on the Casanova tip line from a man reporting that he had been in Dr. Chilton’s home earlier today and had spotted several pairs of women’s panties sitting on the coffee table, and when Dr. Chilton saw that this man had noticed them, he got all flustered and looked frightened.  Since Dr. Chilton is a bachelor and lives along, the caller thought it was suspicious and that the underwear might possibly belong to the kidnapped victims, so he called it in.  The Chief called a judge friend of his and got a search warrant right away, and then he called me to say that they were on their way to Dr. Chilton’s house to search it, and he asked if I wanted to aid in the search.” 

“What the hell!” Will said, even more shaken.  “That cannot be a coincidence.” 

Will could see that Jack looked as unnerved as he was. 

“Do you think Casanova has been watching us?” Hannibal asked.  “If he followed us here, he may have called the tip line hoping that we would be caught in Dr. Chilton’s house.  We would have had quite a lot of explaining to do if that had happened.” 

Jack nodded, deep in thought. 

“Why did the Chief even call you?” Will asked.  “Not that I’m not grateful.  If he hadn’t called we might have still been in the house when the police arrived.  It’s just I thought he made it pretty clear he didn’t want us as part of their own investigation.” 

“I was wondering that myself,” Jack said.  “He said it was a professional courtesy … still …” 

“My guess would be that Chief Hatfield thinks that he has his man and he wants you around so he can rub your nose in it when he makes the arrest,” Hannibal said bluntly.  “Dr. Chilton is already on the suspect board of the Baltimore P.D. and quite frankly fits the profile in many respects.  Once the Chief finds Dr. Chilton’s secret room it’s going to be hard to convince him that Dr. Chilton is not Casanova.” 

“Well, maybe he is,” Jack said. 

“You’re joking, right?” Will said.  “What are the odds that that phone call was just a coincidence?”

“In my experience there is no such thing as coincidence,” Dr. Lecter said.  “There are no accidents in life.  Everything that happens is the result of a calculated move that leads us to where we are.” 

Will raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly at Jack as if to say ‘see?’ 

“Well, at least the police will find those DVDs now and go through them,” Jack said. 

They drove around for fifteen minutes.  They had already seen the entire inside of the house and there was no need to rush over there.  Finally they headed back to Pershing Circle.  Will couldn’t help but wonder if Casanova was watching them, even now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, another interview with Dr. Chilton, and another move by Casanova.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erotic picture warning for those of you reading this on the bus or some other public place!

After making a quick stop at a Dunkin' Donuts drive-thru to get three coffees since it looked like it was going to be a long night, Jack headed back to Pershing Circle, taking his time.  They had already searched the house pretty thoroughly and Jack knew there was only one thing in that house worth exploring further, and that was the room in the basement.  With any luck one of Chief Hatfield’s people would have already found it by the time they got there, which would speed things along.  He wanted the police to find the room and he wanted the Chief to task a team with going through those DVDs ASAP. 

As Jack turned onto Pershing he saw a few of Dr. Chilton’s neighbors standing outside now, clearly curious as to what was going on.  Jack parked behind the line of other cars belonging to law enforcement, and then he, Will and Hannibal headed inside the house to look for Chief Hatfield.  Several officers looked up at them, not even attempting to hide their slightly hostile looks.  Jacked guessed they thought the FBI was here to try and steal their thunder, but Jack was content to let Chief Hatfield run this particular show.  He wanted to believe that Frederick Chilton was Casanova, but that call to the tip line was bothering him.  He made a mental note to find out more about that call in the morning. 

The subdued sense of anticipation in the air told Jack that the secret room had not been discovered yet.  He found the Chief and Detectives Dimmond and Dolarhyde in Dr. Chilton’s bedroom, looking through his closet and drawers. 

“Ah, you’re here,” the Chief said, looking up when Jack knocked lightly on the open door. 

“Yes, Chief.  Have you found anything yet?” 

“Not yet, but I have a feeling that today’s the day,” he said, looking smugly anticipative. 

“So, how can we help?” 

“Why don’t you and Agent Graham and Dr. Lecter look through the kitchen.  That would be a big help.”    

“Sure, Chief,” Jack said, knowing the kitchen was the least likely place to find evidence on a sexual predator, but that suited him just fine.  He would prefer that one of the Chief’s men make the discovery, but if that didn’t happen he would join the search in the basement himself and somehow lead one of the Chief’s men to discover the door at the back of the furnace room. 

After 30 minutes, just as Jack was starting to think that he was going to have to do just that, Sergeant Brown came up from the basement looking excited and said, “Chief!  You need to see this!” 

Jack followed the Chief into the basement and made sure to look suitably stunned at the discovery.   You could practically feel the glee coming off Chief Hatfield now. 

“Finally,” the Chief said, “the break in the case we’ve been looking for.” 

“Good job, Chief,” Jack said, throwing the man a bone, and then purposely walking over to the where the TV and DVDs were. Looking suitably thoughtful at them and knowing the Chief would be watching him, he said, “Do you think Dr. Chilton may have filmed himself with any of the victims?”  

The Chief walked over and stood next to him.  “We’ll find out.  Harrison!  You and Johnson document and bag the DVDs and take them back to the station and get a couple other officers to help you go through them and see if any of the victims are on them.  Do it now!” he barked.  

When Harrison started bagging the DVDs, Jack walked away satisfied, going back upstairs to where Will and Dr. Lecter were waiting.  He had achieved what he wanted.  He would have his answer on the DVDs by morning. 

Dr. Chilton arrived home about 30 minutes after that and was immediately taken into custody while “evidence” in the basement was still being tagged and photographed.  He hadn’t tried to flee when he saw the police cars in front of his house; in fact, he looked angry that the police were in his home, and then stunned that he was being arrested. 

He was taken back to police headquarters and put in an interrogation room where he was left to stew for 30 minutes before Chief Hatfield and Detectives Dimmond and Dolarhyde went in to question him.  The table in the interrogation room was sitting sideways to a pane of one-way glass, so Will, Jack, Hannibal and a fairly large number of officers and detectives, had a good view of all parties.      

Dr. Chilton looked a little pale and shaken, but he never lost his haughty attitude.  He was absolutely blasé about his sex room, as if everyone had one, and denied unequivocally to being Casanova.  Will could tell by Chief Hatfield’s flippant attitude that he didn’t believe him.  Will still wasn’t sure whether Jack was totally convinced that Dr. Chilton wasn’t Casanova, despite that “coincidental” phone call

When Chief Hatfield and the two detectives left the room, Chief Hatfield was smiling despite the fact they hadn’t gotten any kind of confession from him.  Jack said, “Would you mind if we took a crack at him, Chief?” 

“Be my guest,” the Chief said, smiling.  “But we got our man.  Oh, I know he hasn’t confessed, but we’ve got all that evidence from the basement and we’ll find something that ties him to the case, we just have to keep digging.  I’ve got several people viewing those DVDs that we found in the basement right now to see if any of the kidnapped victims are featured in any of them.  It all comes down to good, solid police work.  I told you we’d get him,” he said, looking pleased with himself as he walked away. 

“Will,” Jack said whispering, due to the large number of officers and detectives still hanging around after having watched the interrogation, “I need you to be absolutely honest with me.  After what we found in the basement, do you think Dr. Chilton is Casanova or not?” 

“There are some aspects of his character that would make it seem like he is Casanova, but despite his sex room and the books on Casanova, I still don’t think it’s him, Jack.  Casanova is a chameleon who blends into his surroundings so that no one would give a second thought to him being Casanova.  Dr. Chilton is the opposite.  He’s flamboyant and his lifestyle is the subject of gossip.  I just don’t see it.  Plus, he’s not a mastermind.  He’s not smart enough to have pulled something like this off.” 

“Dr. Lecter, what’s your opinion?” Jack asked, turning to the other man. 

“I agree with Will.  Dr. Chilton is a posturing peacock and Casanova is a wolf parading around in sheep’s clothing.” 

Jack looked frustrated but said, “I’m almost convinced, but I need to be sure.  Okay, Will, time to turn up the heat and make me a total believer.” 

Jack and Will entered the interrogation room and Hannibal stayed outside, curious to see what method of questioning these two would take compared to the police.  He had to admit that when Alana was kidnapped he never thought it would lead to this amazing experience of getting an inside look at an investigation and the workings of both the police and the FBI.  He had been in the process of making plans to host one of his dinner parties and had his three cuts of meat already selected, but when Alana went missing he decided to postpone it.  He was glad he did.  He was learning such invaluable information, and having quite a good time as well.  He was almost grateful to Casanova. 

Hannibal noticed that more people were gathering around him now.  Although Chief Hatfield had walked away, he was back now looking curious.  Both Detectives Dimmond and Dolarhyde had stuck around to watch, as well as Sergeant Brown, and many of the officers who had helped search Dr. Chilton’s home.  They were all apparently curious to watch the FBI at work. 

Will followed Jack into the interrogation room, letting Jack take point.  Dr. Chilton was seated at the table, but not handcuffed.  He hadn’t been officially charged with anything as of yet, although by the look on Chief Hatfield’s face he strongly suspected that that was about to change. 

Will sat next to Jack opposite Dr. Chilton and observed him.  Although he still managed to look pompous, and even appeared to be bored, Will had opened up his empathy and could feel the tension, anger, and uncertainty pouring off him. 

Will waited for Jack to start the questioning.  Will was here for support and to observe. 

Jack just stared at Dr. Chilton for several seconds.  Jack was an imposing man and Will knew that this was a technique men like him often used to unsettle and intimidate a suspect. 

Finally Jack put both elbows on the table and leaned across it and said in a soft voice, “I was there in your basement, Dr. Chilton.  I looked through your erotic book collection.  The collection’s full of perverse, sexual violence, the physical degradation of men, women, and even children.  That might not constitute a ‘record of violence,’ which you claim not to have, but it gives me some subtle hints about your true character.” 

Dr. Chilton looked annoyed but dismissed that with a wave of his hand saying, “I’m a noted psychiatrist, Agent Crawford.  Yes, I study eroticism, just as you study the criminal mind.  I wouldn’t think it strange if I found books on killers or murder in your personal library.  It’s all research.  My erotic collection is the key to my understanding the fantasy life of Western culture, the escalating war between the sexes.  And, also, I don’t feel I have to explain any of my private affairs to you,” he said a little heatedly.    

“You do if your private affairs include kidnapping, rape and murder, Dr. Chilton.” 

“As I’ve already told the police, I am not Casanova and you have found no proof that says otherwise,” Dr. Chilton said, looking angry, but also a bit frightened. 

“My niece went to see you for counseling.  A friend of hers said she was upset after your meeting; then two weeks later she’s kidnapped.  Is that how you targeted her?” Jack asked. 

“I counsel many, many students, and just because one is coincidentally kidnapped does not make me the kidnapper,” Dr. Chilton said. 

Will could feel Jack’s anger rising.  Having a personal stake in this investigation as he did, he wasn’t being as cool and collected as he should be.  Will decided it was time to intervene before things got out of hand, try a different tact. 

“Jack, would you get us some coffee please?” Will asked, making brief eye contact with Jack.  “Dr. Chilton, would you care for a cup?” Will asked cordially. 

“No, thank you.  The coffee here is beastly,” Dr. Chilton said with distain. 

“I certainly can’t argue with that,” Will said, smiling.  Jack reluctantly got up and left the room and went to stand next to Dr. Lecter outside the one-way glass.  Hannibal looked at him quizzically.  “I take it that was some sort of signal to get you to leave the room?” Hannibal asked. 

“Will is good at this.  Due to his empathy his record shows he has a better than average knack for knowing how to get people to open up.  Watch and you’ll see,” Jack said confidently, crossing his arms over his chest and getting his temper back under control. 

Will stood up and removed his suit jacket and hung it on the back of his chair and sat back down in Jack’s chair directly across from Dr. Chilton.  He then looked him right in the eye and said, “Frederick, you admitted to me in our previous meeting that you have quite an appetite for sex.  We’ve heard from several sources that you’re extremely successful with both young women and men alike.  We’ve also heard all about your sexual conquests of students at the university.  Eighteen-, nineteen-, twenty-year-olds.  Beautiful young men and women, your own students in some cases.  Propositioning Cassandra Crawford wouldn’t have been your first attempt trying to seduce a student.  Did she perhaps reject your advances, or possibly even insult you?  Is that why you felt the need to kidnap her?” 

Will saw a flash of anger, but then Dr. Chilton’s demeanor totally changed.  He leaned back in his chair looking for all the world like he didn’t have a care in the world and said, “As I’ve told you before, all the students I’ve slept with were all of legal age and I didn’t force them to do anything they didn’t want to.  And you want to know why I’m so successful with women _and_ men, Mr. Graham?  Because I’m not afraid to go after what I want,” he said, suddenly leaning forward and letting his tongue play between his teeth in an obscene manner.  The message was subtle, but Will understood what he was telegraphing; that he knew how to sexually control most people.  Will lowered his eyes to hide his loathing and reinforced his mind shields.  He had dropped his shields to gauge Dr. Chilton’s emotions better, but the feelings coming off the man and directed specifically at him right now were making his skin crawl. 

Once he felt back in control he looked up at Dr. Chilton and made eye contact again and said bluntly, “You wanted to fuck Cassandra Crawford, didn’t you, Frederick?” 

Dr. Chilton leaned back again and studied Will.  Then he smiled slightly and said, “When she entered my office that day I saw that she was wearing a silk blouse, which pleased me because I like to turn up the air conditioning to constrict the capillaries.  You know, tweak the nipples.  You should have seen how self-conscious she was...how nervous the chill in the air made her.  And, like the others, her manner belied her real predilections.  After she had expressed all of her petty frustrations and uncertainty with regards to her life, I flattered her, told her how beautiful she was, put my hand on her knee.  She was torn, I could tell.  Frustration often causes pent-up sexual tension.  There was a part of her that wanted me to take all control away from her and throw her on the desk, dominate her, fuck her mindlessly, make her forget why she was even there.  But then there was that other part, the puritanical part ingrained into her since birth that told her it was wrong.  If I’d had another 10 minutes with her she would have been on her back on my desk screaming in ecstasy; but unfortunately her time was up, so she left confused and frustrated.  I imagine that’s why she was so upset. 

“Many people want to be freed from their sexual inhibitions,” Dr. Chilton continued, leaning forward as far as he could and licking his lips, staring intently at Will.  “Especially the young.  They’re all bottled up and frustrated, shackled by trying to live within the template of what society considers proper.  But I teach them that there’s so much more out there than what society considers proper.  I free them.  I free as many as I possibly can in as many ways as I possibly can.  You look pretty bottled up yourself, Mr. Graham.  I bet I could free you as well.” 

Hannibal watched the interaction between Will and Frederick in amazement, and he wasn’t the only one.  He saw Sergeant Dimmond shake his head and say to Jack, “Your boy there certainly knows his stuff.  I’ve never seen someone just open up like that in my life.”      

But Jack, who had been seething at Dr. Chilton’s description of his session with his niece, had had enough and burst into the room and launched himself at Dr. Chilton, hands going for his throat.  Will was trying his best to pull him off, but Jack was a big man, a powerful man.  Sergeant Brown and Detective Dolarhyde both rushed in behind him at that point and pulled Jack off of Dr. Chilton.  Dr. Chilton was rubbing his throat, looking shaken now.  As Will followed Jack out of the room Dr. Chilton yelled, “I’ll sue you for that!  You’ve got nothing on me!  You can’t treat me this way!” and Will had to stop Jack from turning around and going back after him.  

“I didn’t hurt the bastard,” Jack whispered to Will as they stepped outside the room where Hannibal was waiting.  “I never intended to.  I was testing a theory.  Dr. Chilton isn’t physically strong.  Casanova is.  You were both right.  Dr. Chilton is a sleazebag but he isn’t Casanova.” 

The three then watched as Chief Hatfield ordered Sergeant Brown and Detective Dolarhyde to handcuff Dr. Chilton and lead him out of the room and toward a holding cell.  Dr. Chilton looked pale now.  “I want a lawyer!” he yelled out.  Will was surprised he hadn’t asked for a lawyer right from the beginning.  It was strange that he hadn’t.  It was almost as if he was somehow sure he wouldn’t be held.  But he was currently on his way to lockup, so Chief Hatfield must think he had enough evidence to keep him at least overnight. 

It was after 1:00 in the morning when Jack and Will bid Dr. Lecter goodnight and drove back to the motel.  Will was physically and emotionally exhausted and mumbled a quick good-night to Jack before unlocking his door and going inside.  He didn’t think he’d have any trouble falling asleep, and he might even be too tired to dream for a change.  He was unbuttoning his shirt and eyeing his bed longingly when he heard, _“SON OF A GODDAMNED BITCH!!”_ shouted from Jack’s room.  He opened his door quickly and stepped outside, and Jack was already standing halfway out his door. 

“Get over here!” he said. 

Will walked over, giving him a puzzled look, and then froze when he saw the postcard in Jack’s hand.  He was holding it with a tissue. 

“It was slipped under my door. That motherfucker is taunting me now,” he said, clearly furious as he shoved the postcard at Will and said, “Wait here.” 

Will watched as Jack headed toward the motel office.  He then stepped inside Jack’s room to examine the postcard in the light.  He cringed.  Jack was right.  This was an “in your face” taunt that left little to the imagination.  

[](http://imgbox.com/ttpG7D9W)

He turned it over and read,

_“Jack, I know things about your niece that you’ve only dreamed_  
of in your deepest, darkest fantasies.  The difference  
between you and me is I don’t fantasize, I live.”   
— Casanova

Well, it looked like Casanova had finally stopped quoting his namesake.  The picture was meant to cut Jack deeply, but the words were meant to rub salt in the wound, causing him even further pain.  Will could see why Jack was fit to be tied. 

Jack stormed back and said, “I wanted to know if anyone had been in the office today asking what room we were in, and the answer was no.  So apparently the bastard _has_ been watching us.  There wasn’t a postcard in your room, was there?” Jack asked. 

“No, Jack.  This seems like a deliberate attempt to upset you, to get you off balance.” 

“Well, it worked.  I can’t remember the last time I was this _PISSED OFF!!_ ” 

“Well calm down!  For all we know he’s watching us right now,” Will said, glancing around the dark parking lot nervously.  “We’d better call this in.  I’m sure he didn’t leave any fingerprints or anything, but it’s procedure.” 

“I suppose, Jack said, scrubbing his face.  Will you do it, Will?” 

Will handed Jack the postcard back and made the call while an agitated Jack paced in front of his door. 

After disconnecting the call Will said, “They said they’d send somebody out right away, Jack.” Will rubbed his neck.  He was exhausted but knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep after this. 

“You don’t have to wait up, Will.  I can deal with this,” Jack said, noticing how tired Will looked. 

“If you’re sure,” Will said. 

“Yeah, yeah, get some rest.  It’ll be another long day tomorrow.” 

Jack went back in his room and closed the door.  Will walked back to his room, standing outside debating for a few seconds, then closed his door and headed back to the small liquor store that he knew was open 24/7.  He arrived back 15 minutes later with another pint of whiskey and didn’t see any signs of the police yet, so he went in his room and sat at the little table and unscrewed the cap and took a good long drink.  It burned all the way down, but he could feel it starting to work, numbing some of his overly frazzled nerves.  He propped his feet on the other chair and slouched down. 

Just why in the hell would Casanova leave a postcard in Jack’s room when Dr. Chilton was just arrested as a prime suspect?  If Casanova had been watching them, as he strongly suspected due to the timeliness of the call to the tip line, there’s a good possibility that he knew that Dr. Chilton was taken into custody.  He supposed that it’s possible that Casanova had already shoved the postcard under Jack’s door before following them to Dr. Chilton’s house and making that phone call to the tip line.  It felt like he was missing something important, and it was giving him a headache because he had a feeling that if he could just figure it out they would be that much closer to figuring out who Casanova is. 

He had three-quarters of the bottle drained when he heard a car pull up outside.  He heard muffled voices and tuned them out while taking another long drink and letting the whiskey dull all his senses. 

He was still sitting in the same position 20 minutes later, his mind finally quiet, when there was a knock at the door.  _What the fuck, Jack?_ he thought angrily.  _It’s …_   Glancing down at his watch he couldn’t make out the time as the numbers were blurry, but he knew it was really late.  Or was it really early?  Why couldn’t Jack just leave him the fuck alone for a few hours? he thought testily.      

He got up and staggered a little walking to the door, and jerked open the door and said, “Jack …”  But then he stopped in surprise as it wasn’t Jack who was standing there, it was Detective Dolarhyde, that perpetual scowl on his face. 

“What the hell do you want?” Will said frowning, slurring his words slightly.   

Detective Dolarhyde raised an eyebrow at that, then looked him over and spotted the bottle that was still clutched in his hand, and looked back up at him with a look of distain. 

“What?” Will said belligerently.  “I’m not on duty now.” 

“I wish I could say the same,” the detective said.  “May I come in?” 

“Oh, it speaks,” Will said, putting a hand on the doorframe and blocking the door.  “I repeat, what-do-you-want?  It’s late.” 

“I was still at the station when your call came in and I volunteered to come over and do the incident report since it involved Casanova.  Now, may I come in?  Or are people from Virginia just naturally rude?” 

Will moved out of the doorway and said, “Virginians obviously don’t have a monopoly on rudeness.  You wouldn’t even speak to me or shake my hand when we first met.” 

Detective Dolarhyde ignored that and said, “I saw your light on through the curtain and thought I’d see if you were up to making your statement since Agent Crawford said he called you over after he found the postcard.  Are you up to making a statement?” he asked skeptically. 

“Dunno what I can tell you,” Will said, swaying a bit.  “We got back to the motel late after leaving the police station and Jack found the postcard,” he said shrugging.  “Nothing else to tell.” 

“Why are you even here?” the detective said. 

“Huh?” Will said.  “This is my room,” he said, feeling confused.    

“No, why are you in Baltimore?  Can’t you see that you’re making things worse by being here?” 

Will frowned at that, the synapses in his brain firing slower than usual as he tried to make sense of what Detective Dolarhyde was saying.  “We’re here because Jack wants to find his niece, and after seven months you guys are no closer to catching this guy,” Will said.  “If this was your sister or your daughter or your niece or your girlfriend that was taken, wouldn’t you want to help find the person who did it if you were in a position to do so?” Will logicked out, pleased with himself. 

“But now Casanova is playing with you, taunting you, slipping postcards under your doors, diverting us from where we should be focusing.  How do you think that helps?” 

“Well don’t you have Casanova in custody now?” Will asked, smiling sweetly. 

“Maybe we do, maybe we don’t.”  Studying Will’s expression he said, “You don’t think it’s him, do you?”    

Will looked up at Detective Dolarhyde, and then he frowned.  “Neither do you.”  Then he shook his head, trying to clear it.  He was having trouble blocking his empathy in his condition.  He was also too drunk and too tired to be having this conversation.  “Look, I’m tired.  I told you all I know.  Just leave,” he said, indicating the door with the hand still clutching the bottle.   

Instead of leaving, Detective Dolarhyde took a step closer to Will, right in his personal space.  Will found himself tensing as he looked up at the taller man, feeling the barely contained aggression that was rolling off him, as well as something else he was having trouble identifying in his condition.  He resisted the urge to take a step back, pride making him stand his ground. 

“You and your _handler_ need to leave town,” the detective continued, staring down at Will.  “I can see you’re purposeful, but we will catch this bastard ourselves.  All you’re doing is getting in our way, muddying the waters.  And in drawing Casanova’s attention, there’s no telling what he’ll do next.”  After pausing a few seconds he tilted his head and said, “In fact, you’re a rather attractive man, Mr. Graham, he said, moving closer still and taking a finger and brushing a curl out of Will’s eyes, making Will’s breath catch.  “From everything I’ve seen I’d say you’re just Casanova’s type.  If I were you I’d get out of town before he gets any ideas and you disappear too.”  Then the detective took a step back and turned and left the room, closing the door behind him without another word. 

Will stood there a few seconds breathing heavy, feeling shaken at the veiled threat that had come out of nowhere.  He quickly locked the door and turned off the light and got on the bed, leaning against the headboard.  His head was spinning from the alcohol, but his mind was working furiously.  Detective Dolarhyde was tall, muscular, powerful looking, had a deep, rich voice, and wore no cologne that Will could detect.  That fit the little bit Abigail had been able to tell them.  And Will strongly suspected that Casanova was somehow involved in law enforcement.  Could Detective Dolarhyde possibly be Casanova?  Will didn’t think Casanova would say something like the detective had just said that was sure to draw speculation, but his mind was foggy from the alcohol and he couldn’t think straight. 

That didn’t stop the dreams though once he fell into a fitful sleep.  He dreamed that Detective Dolarhyde had tied him to a tree and was cutting off his hair and clothes, all the while saying, _I told you to leave, but you wouldn’t listen to me.  Now you will suffer the consequences for your disobedience_.  And all the while crows were flying overhead cawing and waiting for their dinner.        

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter Will and Hannibal visit Abigail, tempers flare at the police station, and Casanova makes his choice.


	11. Chapter 11

Will woke up in a cold sweat to the sound of his phone ringing and was feeling all over the place trying to find it while still half asleep before he finally realized it was still in his pants pocket.  He pulled it out and said, “Hullo?” in a hungover voice, realizing he was going to need vast amounts of aspirin and coffee this morning. 

“Will, you still in bed?” Jack asked.  “Well get your ass up.  I’ll be at the station.”  Then the call disconnected and Will groaned and crawled off the bed.  A shower would help revive him somewhat; then he’d head over to the restaurant down the street and get a Big Gulp sized coffee to help wash down the half dozen or so aspirin he was going to need for this headache. 

After showering and with coffee in hand, he felt marginally better as he headed over on foot to police headquarters.  He saw Jack outside, pacing, and when Jack spotted him he waved him over. 

Will yawned and walked over to him, wondering what Jack had on the agenda for today.  He didn’t have to wait long to find out. 

“Will, good.  Listen, I’m headed out to join the search party that’s still trying to find the exact location where Abigail Hobbs jumped into the river.  Unfortunately there are miles and miles of cliffs on either side of the river, and of course it rained a little last night, but the guy with the bloodhounds was supposed to arrive this morning and I’m hopeful the dogs will be able to pick up her scent so that we can track it to back Casanova’s hideout. 

“Do you want me to tag along with the search party?” Will asked, feeling hopeful that if nothing else, at least he would enjoy watching the dogs. 

“No, no, I have something else for you to do.  I spoke with Dr. Lecter this morning …” 

“Of course you did,” Will said sarcastically. 

“… and …”

“Doesn’t he have clients he should be seeing?” Will said, interrupting.  “I mean, isn’t his practice suffering considering he seems to be spending all his time with us.” 

“Dr. Lecter is a good, civic-minded man, and he’s just as anxious to see Casanova caught as we are.  Don’t forget, one of Casanova’s victims is a friend of his.” 

“I remember,” Will said contritely.  “So, what exactly did you and Saint Lecter talk about this morning?” 

Jack gave Will a withering look and said, “Dr. Lecter suggested trying hypnosis on Abigail, if she’s agreeable, to see if he can get her to remember any details that may be lodged in her subconscious.  He’s going to pick you up here in …” Jack glanced at his watch … “10 minutes.” 

“Fine,” Will said.  “Did you have a chance to speak with Chief Hatfield, explain to him why we and their own profiler don’t think Dr. Chilton could possibly be Casanova, especially after that postcard was found in your room?” 

“I spoke with the pompous jackass briefly.  He said he was preparing for something and didn’t have time to speak with me, but his answer to the postcard was that Dr. Chilton could easily have slipped it under my door at any point during the day before coming home since we were out all day.” 

“Well, I suppose that’s true enough.  What about the DVDs?  Did they find anything on the DVDs linking Dr. Chilton to any of the victims?” 

“I asked Detective Dimmond about that, and he said that although the DVDs were, quote “extremely educational,” unquote, none of the kidnapped victims were featured on them.  But I did call the Bureau this morning to see if anyone used either Bethany Silversmith or Alana Bloom’s numbers to order any drugs, and I should be hearing back from them sometime later this afternoon.  With any luck we’ll get a hit and an address.  Oh, look, there’s Dr. Lecter,” Jack said.  “I’ll see you later.  I’d better head out now.” 

Will watched Jack walk off toward his car.  Despite Jack’s nervous energy there was a distinct slump to his shoulders and he looked like he hasn’t slept in days, which he probably hadn’t.    

Dr. Lecter had pulled in front of police headquarters and Will walked over to the car and got in, leaning back and enjoying the plush seat. 

“Morning,” Will said, lowering the seat back a couple inches. 

“Good morning, Will,” Hannibal said, looking at the jumbo styrofoam cup in Will’s hand with an amused look, then heading off in the direction of the hospital.   

“So,” Will said, “we’re going to try to talk Abigail into letting you hypnotize her, huh?” 

“Yes.  It’s quite possible there may be something that she saw or heard that is buried in the recesses of her mind that hypnosis may be able to bring out.  It’s worth a try anyway.  I’m getting the distinct impression that Agent Crawford is getting more and more desperate for ideas.” 

“I’m getting that as well.  Did he tell you about the postcard Casanova left in his room last night?” 

Hannibal nodded.

“I thought he was going to lose it.  It was a deliberate taunt.  And it was the first time that Casanova has written a personal message on one of his postcards, and he even addressed Jack by his first name,” Will added 

“Casanova knows he has Jack’s niece and is using it to get under Jack’s skin.  Jack’s personal involvement in this case is working against him, and Casanova is the type who will use that to his advantage.” 

“What I’m really worried about is what will happen if we can’t solve this case.  I don’t know if Jack can live with that.  His whole family is counting on him to find his niece, and that’s a lot of pressure.” 

“Perhaps I can have a word with him later.” 

Will nodded.  “That would be great.  Thank you, Dr. Lecter.”  He took a sip of coffee then and sighed, leaning back into the seat, totally relaxed except for the niggling feeling that he was missing something.  The postcard, the call to the tip line, Dr. Chilton’s arrest.  There was something he was missing.    

They arrived at the hospital at that moment and Will put it out of his mind for the time being. 

As they walked toward Abigail’s room, Will frowned when he noticed there was no officer guarding her room.  Chief Hatfield had had an officer posted on her door since she was brought here on the off chance Casanova tried something.  Where was the officer?  He felt a touch of panic until he looked in the room and saw her sitting up in the bed, pillows tucked behind her, smiling brightly as soon as she saw them. 

“You’re looking much better,” Will said, genuinely happy to see her smiling. 

“I’m feeling much better,” she said.  The doctor says I can go home tomorrow.” 

“That is good news.  Listen, Abigail, we have something to ask you,” he said, looking at Dr. Lecter to take over.     

Abigail looked at Dr. Lecter curiously as he sat in the chair next to her bed. 

“Abigail,” Hannibal started, “I was wondering if you would allow me to hypnotize you.  Sometimes when the mind is traumatized it buries information to protect itself, and it’s possible that hypnosis can bring out certain facts that you may have buried deep in your subconscious that might provide a clue as to Casanova’s identity or whereabouts.” 

Abigail looked uncertain.  She was looking down at her lap now worrying her sheets between her hands.  “You really think it might help?” she asked reluctantly. 

“After all you’ve been through we wouldn’t ask this of you unless we thought there was a chance,” Will said.  “And we know how much you want to help us find the others,” he added, feeling that that was a bit of a low blow and hating himself for saying it, but so much was riding on finding a clue, any clue, to the identity or location of Casanova. 

She nodded her head then.  “All right, if you think it might help find them, I’m game.  When do you want to do it?” 

“Right now, if that’s all right with you,” Hannibal said. 

She looked up, surprised, but nodded her head again. 

Hannibal closed the curtains and door and shut off the light.  It was dark in the room, but not pitch black.  He took a crystal out of his inside jacket pocket and a small penlight.  The crystal was on a string and was shaped like a snowflake.  He dangled the crystal about two feet away from Abigail’s face and turned on the penlight, aiming it up toward the crystal from below.  Every little movement from the snowflake’s beveled edges sent rainbow colors glittering all over the walls of the room. 

“It’s beautiful,” Abigail said in awe, smiling slightly. 

Hannibal smiled and nodded over at Will, who nodded back. 

“I’m glad you think so, Abigail,” Hannibal said, “because I want you to concentrate on the crystal and the sound of my voice, nothing else.  Take a deep breath now and let it out slowly.  Good.  Now, there’s nothing but the crystal and the sound of my voice.  Just concentrate.”  And with that he tapped one side of the snowflake with the penlight and sent it twirling, colors dancing and sparkling all over its surfaces now with an almost strobe-like effect. 

“You’re in the here and now, Abigail,” Hannibal said in a soft, soothing voice, “but I’m going to ask you to look into the past.  You’ll be looking at it as if you’re watching a television show, and therefore nothing can hurt you.  You feel safe.  Nothing can harm you.  Do you understand?” 

“Yeesss,” Abigail said dreamily, never taking her eyes off the crystal. 

Hannibal glanced at Will and noticed that he was watching the crystal as well.  His eyes were drooping slightly.  Interesting.  Hannibal suspected that as tired as Will always seemed to be, he would be easy to put under.  He would file that bit of information away. 

“I want you to go back in time to the point where you escaped Casanova.” 

Hannibal saw Abigail’s breathing pick up and a frown crease her forehead and he quickly said, “Nothing can harm you.  You’ll just be an observer watching what happened.  You’re perfectly safe.”  When she looked relaxed again he said, “Now tell me, Abigail, when you were his prisoner, what did you hear?  Did you hear dogs?  A train whistle?” 

“No.” 

“Any kind of animals?  Is it a farm?”

“I don't know.” 

“Do you hear the river from where you are?” 

“No.  I hear him...whispering.” 

“What does he say?”

“I can feel...his mouth on my ear, his breath.  He tells me that he loves me.  He’s always telling me he loves me.  But then sometimes he doesn’t say anything at all, he just touches me, which is even creepier.” 

“Tell me about his face.  I know he wears a mask, but can you describe his eyes?  His mouth?” 

“No.  He always wears a stocking over his face and it distorts everything.  I hate the way it feels against my skin,” she said, visibly cringing. 

“You’re safe, Abigail,” Hannibal repeated soothingly.   

“I can't show him that I hate him,” she whispers, voice trembling.”

“But you escaped him,” Hannibal prompts, trying to steer her away from her mounting distress.  “You got away.  What did you see as you escaped?”

“I don't know. I'm just running...and my legs are heavy from the drugs.  And I can’t find the way out…there are no windows anywhere.  I'm running through hallways...and I don't know where to turn.  He's behind me!,” she says, sounding panicked now. 

“He's not behind you, Abigail.  You outsmarted him.  You got away.  How?  How did you get out?” 

“Light.  I see a light, and then suddenly I’m outside.” 

“Do you see a barn?” 

“No.” 

“A house?” 

“No.”

“A cabin?” 

“There's nothing.  Just the light, and it hurts my eyes. And then I’m running and the rocks are digging into my feet and the branches and bushes are scratching me.  Then I hear him shouting behind me, and I try to run faster.  That's all I'm thinking...just run faster!  I can’t let him catch me, I can’t go back there.  If he catches me he’ll kill me!”  Abigail’s voice starts hiccupping and tears start rolling down her face.  “l...l left the others behind.  I was going to bring help to get them out, but I don’t know where they are.  I just told myself to run, to run and run.” 

“It's all right, Abigail,” Hannibal said, looking over at Will.  “We’re going to find them.” 

“I left them there with him.  What if he hurt them because of what I did?” she said, sobbing now. 

“You’re safe Abigail.  You’re back in your hospital room and you’re safe.  It’s all behind you.  Wake up now, Abigail,” he said, and he snapped his fingers once and clutched the crystal in his hand.” 

Hannibal watched Will rubbing Abigail’s back in a soothing manner while she cried, and when Will looked over at him and they exchanged looks, he knew they were thinking the same thing; that once again they had failed to learn anything new about the mystery of Casanova and his disappearing house.  Hannibal had to admit he admired this predator’s cunning.  This was a worthy opponent, and if the opportunity ever arose to meet face to face, it would be an honor to end his life. 

Will got up and turned the lights back on and opened the curtains just as the door opened and a nurse stepped into the room smiling.  When she saw Abigail’s tear-streaked face she paused a moment before saying, “Well, it seems I got here just in time because it looks like someone needs some cheering up.”  With that she grabbed the remote control for the TV and hit a button.  Chief Hatfield was suddenly on the screen standing outside police headquarters in front of a podium with microphones on it.  A press conference.  Will exchanged a startled look with Hannibal. 

“Oh, he wouldn’t …” Will said. 

_I am pleased to announce that we currently have a suspect in custody who we believe to be Casanova.  We’re withholding his name at the present time for safety concerns.  He has not disclosed the location of the kidnapped victims yet, but we believe that it’s just a matter of time before we have that information as well ..._

Chief Hadley was poised and confident making the statement.  If Will had to venture a guess he would say the chief was considering making a move to politics and this case was his stepping stone. 

“Oh my god, oh my god!” Abigail enthused, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down on the bed.  They have him?  I wonder who is it?  Can you guys find out?” 

So that’s why the officer was pulled from her door, Will thought, because Chief Hatfield had already decided that Dr. Chilton is Casanova.  _Crap!_  

“Abigail,” Will said, hating that he was going to take that jubilant look off her face.  “Dr. Lecter and I think there’s a possibility the man they have in custody might not be Casanova.  We think it’s possible that the real Casanova set this man up.  So we’re going to keep looking, just in case.” 

“But it’s possible they have the right man, right?  I mean, Chief Hatfield looks really certain,” she said, looking back up at the TV as Chief Hatfield answered questions from the press. 

“We would like nothing more for that to be the case,” Dr. Lecter said.  “We’ll let you get some rest now since tomorrow is a big day and you will be going home.” 

That put a smile back on her face.  “All right, bye.” 

They stepped out of the room and moved down the hall before either of them spoke. 

“They have no concrete evidence, it’s all circumstantial,” Will said.  “For the Chief to make an announcement at this point just seems…desperate.  And if Jack hears this he is going to go ballistic,” he said, pulling his phone out and hitting the speed dial button for Jack’s phone.  “Shit, it’s going straight to voice mail.  We’d better get back to the station.” 

 

They arrived at police headquarters 15 minutes later, and as soon as they opened the front door they could hear Jack’s raised voice. 

“You’d better go get your boss,” Sergeant Brown said from his desk to Will.  “It sounds like they’re close to throwing punches.” 

“Crap,” Will said, heading for Chief Hatfield’s office.  Sergeant Brown may have been at his desk but it looked like every other officer and detective was gathered outside the Chief’s office watching the show through the glass partition in the wall.  As Will elbowed his way through people he got the distinct feeling he was being watched, and when he looked up he saw Detectives Dolarhyde and Dimmond watching him.  He kept his eyes straight ahead as he passed them, remembering the disturbing visit from Detective Dolarhyde last night. 

Even though the Chief’s door was closed, Will could hear every word clear as a bell. 

“I’m telling you, Dr. Chilton could no more be Casanova than I could.  You can’t call off the search when you’ve-got-the-wrong-man!” Jack yelled red faced, pounding his knuckles on the chief’s desk for emphasis. 

 _Not good,_ Will thought.    

“Well, apparently you just can’t stomach the fact that the Baltimore P.D. one-upped you.  You thought you’d just swoop down here and show us all up, make us all look like a bunch of bungling, incompetent halfwits.  Well we do think we have the right man, Agent Crawford, and it’s just a matter of time before we get him to tell us the location of your niece and the others.  So why don’t you just sit back and relax and let us finish what we started.  Or better yet, pack up your stuff and that little curly-headed assistant of yours and head on back to Virginia where you can maybe do some good.” 

Both men were standing on opposite sides of Chief Hatfield’s desk, leaning toward each other with their hands on the desk.  Sergeant Brown was right, they looked close to throwing punches.  Will tapped on the glass door.  He looked behind him and saw that Dr. Lecter was right behind him.  This was the first time he was glad Dr. Lecter was close by because he may need backup to get Jack out of there. 

“What do you want?” Jack barked. 

“Uh, Jack, can we talk to you?” Will asked, realizing how many people were watching him right now. 

Jack gave Chief Hatfield one last scathing look and opened the door. 

“Well?” Jack snapped. 

“Outside please,” Will said, leading him through the crowd and hoping that the people would disburse now that the show was over. 

Once they were outside Jack said, “Now, what was so important you felt the need to interrupt?” 

Will exchanged looks with Dr. Lecter and said, “We were over at the hospital and saw the press conference.  I tried to call you.  I thought you were out with the search party?” 

“After you left I found out that Chief Hatfield had canceled the search and the dogs.  After all, now that he has Casanova in custody there’s no need to waste taxpayer dollars when Dr. Chilton will be spilling his guts any second now,” he said disgustedly.  “Is that all you wanted?  Wait, how did the hypnosis go?” he said, suddenly looking hopefully at Hannibal. 

“Unfortunately we didn’t learn anything new,” Dr. Lecter admitted. 

“Aaarrrrrgggghhhh!  Goddammit!” Jack said, pulling at his hair in frustration.  I can’t believe Abigail Hobbs was his prisoner for over three months and she can’t give us anything useful that might lead us to him!  I’m going back in there and tell Chief Hatfield that if he won’t continue with the investigation I’m going to bring the whole goddamn FBI team down here and we’ll tear this city apart if we have to until we have the right man in custody.” 

“Jack,” Will said, lightly touching his elbow to stop him.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.  You’re too upset, too emotional.  You’re not thinking straight.  Maybe wait a little while before you go back in there.” 

“Why?  Do you think he’s right now?” Jack said, practically yelling.    

“No!  It’s just things were getting a little heated in there and I thought maybe you should take a walk first and calm down a …” 

“I don’t need a walk.  And I certainly don’t need you telling me how to do my job!”  Jack took a couple of deep breaths and said, “I listened to the recording of the call that came in on the tip line.  It was spoken quickly and in a deep voice, a little bit of stammering and nervousness like you would expect to find with someone leaving a tip on someone they know, and on the surface it seemed genuine.  The thing is I checked the number, and the call was made from a burner phone that’s no longer active.  And I checked the time it came in and the bastard absolutely did call while we were in Chilton’s house which means he was watching us.  And then I get back to the motel and find that to add insult to injury that sonofabitch slipped that postcard under my door, taunting me!  Taunting me with that crack about my niece!”    

“Jack, calm down.  You can’t let him get to you like this.  You’ve gotten very little sleep since you’ve been here.  Why don’t you go back to the motel and call Bella …”

“And if you’d done your job like you were supposed to, we’d have Casanova by now.  Everybody told me what a great profiler you are; they told me you’re the best, and yet here we are no closer to catching him than when we first arrived.” 

Will jerked, literally feeling like he’d just been slapped, and he felt his face getting hot as he glanced over and saw Dr. Lecter looking at him.  And quite frankly he’d had just about enough of Jack’s increasingly irrational behavior.  Trying to keep his anger under control he said, “Fine, you’re not happy with my performance, then here,” he said, indicating Dr. Lecter, “you have another profiler.  Dr. Lecter can help you.  You’ve always seemed very interested in his opinion.  I’ll just head on back home where at least my students appreciate me,” he said, turning and storming off.  

“How do you plan on getting home, Will?” Jack yelled at Will’s retreating back.  “You rode down here with me!” 

“I’ll rent a car!” Will yelled back over his shoulder, realizing they were attracting looks, but he was so mad he didn’t care.  He had been working his ass off since he got here, not to mention putting out fires and dealing with Jack’s erratic behavior, like deciding to break into Dr. Chilton’s home where they almost got caught, risking both their careers.  He just wanted to get back to the peace and quiet of Wolf Trap and away from here. 

Hannibal was looking between Jack and Will with interest.  He would try and calm Jack down first before the man did something rash; then go after Will and speak with him, get him to change his mind about leaving.  It would take Will time to walk back to the motel, pack, find a car rental place, and check out, so he had time to deal with Jack first. 

 

Casanova had been watching the exchange between Jack, Will and Dr. Lecter with great interest not 25 feet away from them.  Jack seemed rather upset.  It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with a certain phone call he made or a certain postcard he had slipped under his door yesterday, could it?  He smiled, enjoying the game and Jack’s obvious distress.  He would have to tell Cassandra all about it later tonight in intimate detail. 

But then he tensed, the familiar thrill of anticipation he always felt right before a hunt coursing through his body as he saw Will get upset over something Jack said and walk off, finally separating himself from the other two.  This is what he had been waiting for.  Will was safe as long as he stayed near at least one of the other two, but a little lamb wandering off from the protection of the flock is vulnerable and just asking to be picked off by some big, bad predator.  He had already made the decision to take Will for several reasons and had just been biding his time, waiting patiently for the right opportunity to present itself.  And this was it.  He knew exactly where Will was headed, and he knew where both Jack and Dr. Lecter were.  _You’re mine now, Will_ , he thought smiling, as he gave one last look at Jack and Dr. Lecter before heading for his van. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter ... well, I think you can probably figure this one out. ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who commented on the last chapter, you guys had me smiling and laughing, so thank you.  
> Now, I know you’re all eager, so on with the story.

As Will headed toward the motel, he had his cell phone out googling car rental places in the area.  He found a Budget Car Rental located only two miles away.  Maybe he would ask Dr. Lecter to drop him off.  Or, he could just walk.  Two miles wasn’t that far.  He had been hurt and angry by Jack’s words.  Part of him recognized that Jack was speaking out of frustration, overreacting to everything due to family pressure and his need to solve this case, but that was no reason to take it out on him.  And then there was this other part of him that was upset because he thought that maybe Jack was right.  As hard as he’d tried, he hadn’t been able to offer up anything useful to help identify Casanova or lead to the whereabouts of the victims. 

After walking five blocks and as the motel came into sight, some of the anger he felt had faded a bit.  How would he behave if someone he loved was taken by someone like Casanova?  Probably not any better than Jack.  Then he pictured sweet young Abigail the way she looked when he first saw her in the hospital, all bruised and battered, her body shutting down because of some drug Casanova had injected her with, and he knew he couldn’t leave.  Casanova still had the others, including Jack’s niece and Dr. Lecter’s friend, and he needed to help find them no matter what.  And hadn’t Hannibal told Abigail at the hospital this morning after she broke down crying during the hypnosis that they would find the others?  He needed to stay and help keep that promise to her. 

He rubbed his sleeve over his sweaty face as he crossed the motel parking lot, walking diagonally across the large lot toward his room situated at the far corner.  It was hot today and he felt like he was running a slight fever, so maybe he would take a cool shower, pop a couple of aspirin, get a little something to eat and relax a little bit, and then head on back to police headquarters.    

He walked around a van that had “Al’s Carpet Cleaners” decaled on the side, and of course the jackass had parked right in front of his door even though there were only four other cars parked in the entire lot.  He unlocked his door and stepped inside, flipping on the light switch, and it took his brain two seconds to connect the strange chemical smell in the air to danger, and when it clicked he immediately went for the gun tucked behind him in his waistband under his shirt, but before he could reach it the door closed suddenly and he was grabbed from behind by someone strong, a powerful arm banding around his middle while a foul smelling cloth was pressed tightly over his mouth and nose. 

Feeling suffocated he instinctively inhaled trying to breathe through the cloth, and felt his head spin and realized the cloth was saturated in chloroform.   He felt panic set in knowing that he would be unconscious and helpless in a matter of seconds if he didn’t get the cloth away from his face. 

The hand that had been reaching for his gun was trapped against his body under the arm banded around his middle, but his left arm was free.  He grabbed the wrist holding the cloth to his face and tried to pull it away while struggling as hard as he could, but this bastard was strong and he couldn’t budge it.  Holding his breath now and trying to think clearly despite his increasing dizziness, he twisted his body so that they were facing the door, then lifted both feet off the ground and kicked off hard against the door.  He and his assailant went stumbling backwards, hitting the edge of the bed, and the assailant’s hand slipped off his face as they both tumbled backwards onto the mattress.  Will twisted his body sharply out of the man’s grip which had him falling off the bed onto the floor.  He stood up quickly, turning toward the door hoping to escape, but the way out was already blocked.  It was Casanova, tall and muscular, his stockinged face just as creepy as Abigail had described it. 

Will reached behind him for his gun … but it wasn’t there. 

“You looking for that,” Casanova said, pointing at the bed with a hand encased in latex. 

The gun was lying in the center of the bed where it must have slipped out of his waistband during the struggle.  He had still been holding his cell phone in his hand when he was grabbed and had dropped that somewhere, so making a call was out. 

Will’s heart was hammering in his chest as he looked up at Casanova.  This was the man who had left Akilah Jackson out in the woods to die; the same man who had raped and hurt sweet, young Abigail.  This was a killer and a sexual predator.  But why was he here in his room? 

“What do you want?” he finally asked. 

“I would think that was obvious, Will,” he said in a deep, rich voice.  “I want you.  Since Abigail ran off I find I have an opening, and I want you to fill it.  You should be flattered.  I choose only the best.” 

Will looked stunned.  “Why me?” he asked, confused. 

“Because you’re smart, beautiful and unique.” 

“I’m not that smart, and I’m certainly not beautiful.” 

Casanova tilted his head, and with the mask it was a creepy sight.  “When you’re out and about, Will, don’t you feel eyes moving over your body?  Even your new friend Dr. Lecter can’t seem to take his eyes off you.” 

“That’s not true,” Will said, frowning. 

Casanova chuckled.  “I’ve been watching the three of you a lot lately, and it is absolutely true.  His eyes are constantly tracking your every movement when he thinks you and Jack aren’t paying attention.  But I see everything, Will.” 

Will tried to remain calm while he weighed his rather limited options.  There was no way of getting past Casanova to the door.  When push came to shove, Casanova was bigger and stronger than him.  He could go for his gun on the bed, but he knew the man would be on him as soon as he tried.  And even if he managed to get hold of the gun before Casanova was on him, he’d have to click off the safety before he could fire off a shot that might alert someone to call the police.  Since he was the last room on the strip he had no neighbor to his left and Jack had the room to his right, so even if he yelled there was a chance nobody would hear him.  There had only been those four cars in the lot indicating most people were out right now.  As he glanced around him he didn’t see anything he could grab and use as a weapon.  There were just no good options.  Maybe he could bluff his way out. 

“This wasn’t very smart of you, you know.  Jack Crawford is right next door and all I have to do is shout out and he’ll be over here in five seconds with his gun,” he said, pointing toward Jack’s room for emphasis. 

Casanova laughed, and it was a deep, rich, confident laugh that made the hairs on Will’s arms stand up.  “Nice try, Will, but we both know that Jack is still back at the police station close to having a meltdown.  I wonder if finding you missing will push him over the edge.  I admit I’m anxious to find out.” 

 _Shit!_  So much for bluffing.  He was basically fucked and he knew it.  The only thing he could think of was to try and get in the bathroom to his right and lock the door and hope Casanova wouldn’t risk the noise of trying to break down the door.  It was the only thing he could think of. 

He looked up at Casanova then and realized that the man was watching him through that creepy stocking and just waiting for him to make a move.  This was probably a game to him.  Fine, if that’s the way he wants to play this.  He glanced over at the gun and then feinted left toward the bed like he was going for it, and then went right, slipping into the bathroom and quickly slamming and locking the door.  He put his back to the door and listened, heart pounding in his chest.  _Please let him leave, please let him leave,_ Will prayed.  The force of the kick to the door jamb sent him flying toward the bathtub and he grabbed onto the shower curtain to try and stay upright, but the curtain ripped from its rings and he went face-first into the tub, jackknifed over the side, awkwardly trying to push himself up from the suffocating folds of plastic.  He tried to stand up, but before he could Casanova was suddenly draped over his back, keeping him bent over the tub, trying to get the cloth back over his face.  Will grabbed the wrist that was trying to get the cloth to his face with his right hand and locked his elbow straight.  He had his left hand braced on the bottom of the tub trying to take some of the pressure off his stomach as the tub dug into it painfully with the added weight of Casanova’s on his back. 

With Will’s right elbow locked Casanova wasn’t able to get the cloth to his face, but Casanova grabbed Will’s left arm suddenly and pulled and Will nearly face-planted into the side of the tub, and Casanova was able to pull his right wrist free from Will’s grasp.  Will struggled to get his feet under him so he could buck Casanova off him, but then froze in disbelief as he became aware of growing pressure against his ass.  There’s a big difference between knowing that you’re dealing with a sexual predator and having the evidence of it pressed intimately against you.  He couldn’t help it, he panicked then as the reality of his situation was driven home by the growing pressure wedged firmly and unpleasantly between his butt cheeks.    

“Get the hell off me!” he shouted, struggling as hard as he could. 

“You might as well get used to it, Will,” Casanova said in a breathy, husky voice.  “We’re going to be spending a lot of time in this position.” 

“Oh, fuck you!” Will yelled. 

“It’s tempting, Will.  But I like being on top.”  With that Casanova wrapped his left arm around Will’s neck and pulled him up sharply so that Will was now kneeling on the bathroom floor, and Casanova slapped the cloth over Will’s face at the same time.  Casanova was on his knees straddled behind him so that Will was trapped between the tub and Casanova’s body.  Will’s attempts at pushing the arm away from his face became increasingly weaker as the chloroform took effect, and the dark grey around the edges of his mind finally closed in and faded to black.  His last thought before he blacked out was that Jack was going to be so happy to be able to say ‘I told you so’ to Chief Hatfield.  

As Will’s body finally went limp in his arms, Casanova held Will tightly against him and buried his stockinged face in his neck, breathing in his scent while he attempted to get his body back under control.  Will’s spirited performance had gotten him rock hard.  The takedown was always his favorite part of the hunt.  You never knew how someone was going to react when they felt threatened and backed into a corner.  Sometimes they fought; sometimes they ran; sometimes they cowered and cried.  Will had certainly surprised him with that kickoff on the door, the attempted bluff, and then the misdirection right before he ran into the bathroom.  He was just full of surprises and that made him all the more intriguing. 

Once he had his body more or less under control, he picked Will up and carried him to the bed and laid him down.  He went over to the window and moved the curtain aside a crack and looked outside to see if they had attracted any unwanted attention.  Kicking the door in had been a gamble, but due to the lack of cars he didn’t think anyone was in any of the nearby rooms. 

Not seeing anyone out and about, he went back to the bed and looked down at his newest acquisition.  Beautiful.  And clever and feisty, just the way he liked them. 

He took off one of the latex gloves he was wearing and ran the back of his fingers down the soft stubble on Will’s cheek and then stroked that luscious bottom lip with his thumb.  Casanova had watched Will play with that bottom lip and had been dying to touch it.  He wanted to kiss that lip, suck on it, bite it.  He planned on making use of that beautiful mouth in a number of pleasurable and creative ways. 

He walked back into the bathroom and grabbed a syringe from the sink that he had already prepared which contained a strong sedative, and injected it into Will’s arm.  That would keep him unconscious for several hours.  After looking out the window one more time, he removed the stocking mask from his face and slipped on a cap that said “Al’s Carpet Cleaners,” then opened the motel door, and, after looking cautiously around, stepped out and opened the back doors of the van, which he had backed into the spot right in front of Will’s door.  He went back inside and picked Will up and tossed him over his shoulder and, after taking another quick look around outside, quickly tossed him in the back of the van and closed the doors. 

He walked to the motel door and glanced over at the table next to the door to make sure his trademark postcard hadn’t been knocked off in the scuffle.  It was where he had left it and he smiled as he imagined the look on Jack’s face when he saw this one.  He made sure to leave the door unlocked, turned off the light, and closed the door.  He got into the van and drove across the parking lot, then turned right, back in the direction of police headquarters. 

A block down he spotted an easily recognizable black Bentley headed in his direction.  He pulled the bill of the baseball cap down low on his forehead and turned his face away as he drove right by Dr. Lecter’s car.  Looking in the rearview mirror he saw Dr. Lecter turn off into the motel parking lot.  _Sorry, Dr. Lecter, but you’re just a tad too late,_ he thought, smiling.  _He’s mine now and there’s nothing you can do about it._

He started whistling.  It had been quite a productive day, and now he would just sit back and wait for the fireworks to start.  And then he had tonight to look forward to.  They were both going to be so much fun breaking Will in.  He was getting hard again just thinking about it.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no more clues.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erotic picture warning! 
> 
> Thanks for all the great comments on the last chapter.

After Hannibal had finally gotten Jack calmed down a bit, he got in his car and headed for the motel to see if he could do the same for Will.  He really didn’t want Will leaving town yet because the more time he spent with Will the more fascinated he became with him. 

When he reached Will’s room and knocked on the door, there was no answer.  Well, it was possible Will was in the shower so he knocked again, louder this time, but there was still no answer.  He tried the door and found it unlocked, which surprised him.  After Casanova slipped that postcard under Jack’s door indicating he knew where they were staying, it seemed a bit strange that Will would leave the door unlocked. 

Hannibal stepped inside and was instantly on the alert.  There was the distinct smell of chloroform in the air, and when he switched on the lights he saw signs of a struggle:  the comforter on the bed was askew, a couple of items on the bedside table were knocked off onto the floor, where he also spotted Will’s cell phone, and when he walked to the bathroom he saw damage to the door and the shower curtain lying in a crumpled heap in the tub, after apparently having been ripped off its rings. 

He turned around and scanned the main room again and spotted the postcard perched on the table.  Hannibal calmly walked over to the table and pulled out his pocket handkerchief and picked the postcard up.  He was momentarily stunned when the man featured on the front of the postcard could have been Will’s twin.  The Will twin was naked and laid out in a pose that made Hannibal’s mouth go suddenly dry. 

 

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=11v4qwy)

 

After staring at the picture for several seconds he turned it over.  The picture was titled _Fallen Angel_ by Italian artist Roberto Ferri.  He then read the message written in Casanova’s elegant hand: 

_“I must thank you for the sweet treat you’ve brought me, Jack._  
_I’ll be sure to savor every delectable part of him._  
_Maybe I’ll even let your niece watch while I do._  
_At this point you must be asking yourself,_  
_just who is the hunter and who is the hunted?”_

_― Casanova_

Hannibal had to admit that he admired Casanova’s style.  And despite the fact that Casanova had kidnapped Alana Bloom, Hannibal had been content to sit back and watch things play out for the sake of everything he was learning from the police and the FBI.  It’s just too bad that out of the over 600,000 people living in Baltimore Casanova had decided to pick the one person who had captured Hannibal’s interest, someone he had tentatively begun making his own plans for. 

Hannibal placed the card back on the table in the same position, looking thoughtful.  Why would Casanova kidnap someone today of all days when he could have sat back and let Dr. Chilton take the blame for his crimes considering Chief Hatfield had just gone on national TV telling the world that they had Casanova in custody? 

Slowly the pieces started falling into place in his head.  He didn’t have all the pieces figured out yet, but he thought he had a major one.  He tapped his inside pocket thoughtfully, then pulled out his cell phone and called Chief Hatfield and reported Will’s kidnapping, then called Jack. 

Hannibal waited outside, and Jack Crawford arrived first ten minutes later, car screeching to a halt in front of him.  Jack jumped out of his car and approached Hannibal while Baltimore P.D. were still parking. 

“What happened?” he demanded, storming toward Hannibal. 

“I came to Will’s room hoping to talk him out of leaving, but he didn’t answer the door.  I tried the door and it was unlocked, and when I went in I noticed the smell of chloroform in the air and what appeared to be signs of a struggle.  I then saw the postcard on the table.” 

Jack swept past him into the room, Chief Hadley and Detectives Dimmond and Dolarhyde close behind.  Jack glanced quickly around the room, then picked up the postcard with a tissue and examined the front with the Will-lookalike, then flipped it over and read the back.  Looking pale, he handed the postcard to Chief Hatfield who had entered the room behind him and was looking around the room.  Jack was running his hand through his hair, clearly shaken.  “Why on earth would Casanova take Will?” 

Hannibal looked at him in surprise.  “Because he’s extremely attractive, quite brilliant, and undeniably unique, everything Casanova looks for in his victims. 

Jack was shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe this was happening.  Looking at Chief Hatfield he said, “I tried to tell you that Dr. Chilton wasn’t Casanova but you wouldn’t listen to me, and now he has one of my agents,” Jack said accusingly, looking wrecked.    

To his credit Chief Hatfield looked upset but didn’t snap back at Jack.  He looked at the front of the postcard, then read the back and shook his head.  “You just had to come down here and stir things up.”   

“You’re saying this is my fault?” Jack said, red crawling up his neck.  “Well at least I didn’t go on national TV and announce to the entire world that I had him in custody!” Jack fired back. 

“Speaking of which,” Detective Dimmond said, cutting in and looking between the two men, “why would Casanova strike now?  If the police just broadcasted that they have him in custody, shouldn’t he have just sat back and reveled in his good fortune?” 

“He makes a valid point,” Chief Hatfield said.  “It doesn’t make sense for him to do this now.  And of all the people he could have taken, why take your boy?  Why risk having you bring the entire Bureau down here?”  

“The bastard is playing with us,” Jack said, fuming.  “He’s too arrogant to want anyone else getting the credit for what he does, so he decides to take someone the very same day you announce you have him in custody to humiliate you, and he takes my man to humiliate me.” 

“Well he’s got some big-ass cojones pulling this off in broad daylight five blocks from the police station,” Detective Dimmond added. 

Hannibal watched the exchange with interest.  Casanova had the Baltimore P.D. and the FBI at odds with each other and spinning their wheels.  And by striking now and choosing Will he had done exactly what Jack had said; he had humiliated Baltimore P.D. by proving they had the wrong man, and Jack was so furious and upset right now that Hannibal doubted he was capable of thinking straight.  Hannibal had to admit that Casanova was brilliant; maybe nearly as brilliant as he.  It’s just a pity that he would have to hunt him down and kill him now to take back possession of someone he had begun to think of as his.   

“Well, let me get the team down here to check for fingerprints or other clues,” the chief said, walking around the room.  “It looks like your boy put up quite a fight,” he said, looking into the bathroom, “so maybe we’ll actually find something we can use,” he said hopefully. 

“I suppose you’ll be letting Dr. Chilton go?” Hannibal asked the chief.   

“Hmm?  Oh…yes, I suppose we’ll have to.  The press is going to crucify me,” he said, rubbing his forehead.  “I just hope Dr. Chilton doesn’t decide to sue.  I should probably put an officer back on the Hobbs girl as well until she’s released from the hospital,” he said, looking suddenly ten years older. 

Everyone cleared out of Will’s room once the forensics team arrived.  Chief Hatfield sent a couple of uniforms door to door at the motel to see if anyone saw or heard anything.  All non-essential personnel left, and Hannibal said a quick farewell to Jack, who was clearly distracted and already on the phone with the FBI checking to see if they had found out anything regarding any drugs ordered using either Bethany Silversmith or Alana Bloom’s numbers in the last seven months.  Hannibal strongly suspected that if their numbers were in fact used, it would simply lead to a post office box that was rented for a month or two using the name of a fake medical facility and paid for in cash. 

Hannibal got in his car and drove back to the police station and parked about a half a block away and turned off the engine and waited.  He could see the front door from where he was but his car wouldn’t be easily spotted by anyone walking out. 

Hannibal had a theory about Casanova with this recent development.  Jack thought Casanova had struck today after Chief Hatfield’s announcement because Casanova was arrogant and didn’t want anyone else getting credit for what he did.  Hannibal didn’t think that that fit with what he knew about Casanova.  Casanova was methodical and brilliant, and he was sure that Casanova had some other motive for striking today other than just petulance. 

One thing that both the police and FBI were overlooking was the byproduct of Casanova striking today, and that byproduct was that it proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Frederick Chilton was innocent and he would have to be released.  He could see why Jack would overlook this considering it was Casanova’s call to the tip line that got Dr. Chilton arrested in the first place.  He didn’t have an answer for that.  Still, this was a possibility that no one but he seemed to be considering and it was worth pursuing.  The question is, why would Casanova care if Dr. Chilton got released or not?  The only possible answer he could come up with is that they were in this together.  It would be incredibly unusual for a sexual psychopath like Casanova to partner with a second person, especially someone like Frederick Chilton; still, there is a very rare psychological condition called twinning which might fit this particular situation. 

Twinning is caused by an urge to connect, usually between two lonely people.  Once they “twin” the two become a “whole” and they become dependent on one another, often obsessively so.  Twinning creates a uniquely powerful structure within which the pair can operate in complex ways.  Hannibal suspected there was an unsolved crime somewhere in the past that had been committed by one of them that the other had somehow witnessed, and instead of being shocked and disgusted the twin had been thrilled and intrigued and they had somehow bonded over it.  Had they met at John Hopkins?  Had Casanova been a student there at the same time Dr. Chilton was?  It made sense. Two very smart boys, special boys, committing forbidden acts together.  Sharing evil thoughts and dirty little secrets because they were lonely and had no one else they could talk to about it, no one else who would understand … twinning at its most seductive and destructive. 

Abigail had mentioned that sometimes Casanova talked to her, told her he loved her, but then she said at other times he would touch her without saying a word.  Or was it because it was two different people?  Casanova was clearly the mastermind pulling off the kidnappings, but it was possible he would then let his good friend share in the spoils.  However, Casanova was smart enough to have Dr. Chilton wear the same stocking over his face and tell him not to speak when he was with one of the captives, thereby creating the illusion that there was only one of them.  That way if one of them did get caught the other would be safe, or could possibly provide an alibi for the other, just like Casanova had done for Dr. Chilton by kidnapping Will.    

Hannibal knew that Casanova was the dominant of the two.  He was more aggressive and would need an outlet and an anchor for his aggression so that he could behave normally in order to keep his own person suit intact.  The people he kidnapped would provide his outlet, his way of relieving his testosterone-filled aggression, and he suspected that Dr. Chilton was his anchor.  This could also be why they achieved so well.  They each had a built-in and very effective emotional support system.  There was no doubt that Casanova’s person suit was every bit as flawless as Hannibal’s own because he still had no idea who he was. 

Hannibal also strongly suspected that Dr. Chilton was yet an additional reason that Casanova had targeted Will.  During Will’s interview with Dr. Chilton, Hannibal could see that Dr. Chilton was intrigued with Will, aroused even.  So if Dr. Chilton had mentioned to his good friend Casanova that he liked Will, that could have been another reason why Casanova took him. 

Casanova had probably intended taking a different person, but then changed his plans as opportunity arose when he saw Will walk off by himself.  Will may be a gift for Dr. Chilton to soften the blow of his arrest, which Casanova himself orchestrated. 

Hannibal mulled this over.  Casanova had called the tip line while they were in Dr. Chilton’s house, indicating he was watching them.  The police had come and they barely escaped getting caught.  Dr. Chilton ends up getting arrested because of that call, and for the most part seemed pretty arrogant.  He didn’t even ask for a lawyer until they were taking him to lockup, which was odd.  Later that night Jack finds the postcard shoved under his door with the taunt about his niece, clearly meant to upset Jack.  The next day Chief Hatfield announces he has Casanova in custody, and then Will is taken and one of Casanova’s trademark postcards is left behind leaving no doubt that Dr. Chilton is not Casanova and is therefore innocent.  Dr. Chilton will now have to be released, Chief Hatfield will be crucified by the press once they get wind that Casanova struck again, and Jack is starting to crack around the edges.  He had no idea why Casanova manipulated Dr. Chilton into getting arrested in the first place, but it’s obvious Casanova has been working several angles and toying with them all this whole time.  Brilliant, brilliant boy. 

Hannibal had a strong suspicion that calling the tip line last night was a spontaneous decision he made when he saw them break into Dr. Chilton’s house, and Hannibal would bet that Casanova hadn’t told Dr. Chilton what he was planning.  If Hannibal is right, then once Dr. Chilton is released he’ll most likely make a beeline right for Casanova very much upset and wanting to confront him.  If that’s the case, all he has to do is wait until Dr. Chilton is released and follow him.    

Hannibal sat in his car and waited an hour-and-a-half before he saw Dr. Chilton and an officer leave the building.  It looked like the officer was giving him a ride home.  Hannibal followed at a discrete distance, and then pulled his car over a short distance down from Pershing Circle knowing that if Dr. Chilton went anywhere he would see him since there was only one way in or out of Pershing Circle. 

He didn’t have to wait long.  Five minutes after the police car had driven off Hannibal saw Dr. Chilton’s car pull up to the crossing and turn left.  Hannibal followed him staying well back.  It was 10:30 at night now and there was still enough street traffic to help him remain inconspicuous, but it got harder when they left the city limits and were in a more rural area.  It looked as if he was headed in the same direction they had taken when they went to see the dead girl in the woods. 

About three miles past the place where the girl was found, Dr. Chilton turned right onto a dirt road that Hannibal would have missed seeing because it was small and unmarked.  Hannibal was afraid of being spotted following behind Dr. Chilton on the dirt road, so he drove past it a little way and pulled over onto the shoulder of the road.  He took a flashlight and a pair of leather gloves out of his glove compartment and followed the dirt road on foot.  He had been walking approximately 10 minutes wondering how far in this road led when he finally spotted Dr. Chilton’s car sitting next to a van.  He approached slowly, listening for any sounds.  He looked through the driver’s side window of Dr. Chilton’s car, but it was empty.  But now what?  Looking around there wasn’t any sort of structure in sight.  So where in the world had he gone? 

The moon was only a sliver in the night sky and it was pitch black in the woods as Hannibal walked around shining the flashlight on everything trying to figure out where Dr. Chilton could have possibly gone.  The only reason he found it was that he almost tripped over it.  It was a set of large wooden doors set into the ground.  So that’s the reason why Abigail said when she was finally out in the open she turned around and the house was gone.  Casanova’s lair was underground.  He felt another spark of admiration for this other predator and was feeling a rush of adrenalin anticipating their inevitable confrontation. 

He cautiously opened one of the doors and found it was well oiled and made no noise.  That would be Casanova’s doing.  He shut off the flashlight and walked down a gradual stone incline that led further underground to a short tunnel.  The tunnel turned right, and when he made the turn he saw light up ahead.  He also heard raised voices. 

“Why are you angry?  Yes, you were arrested, but I got you out as soon as I could.”    

That must be Casanova, Hannibal thought. He didn’t recognize the voice. 

“Well, you didn’t tell me you were setting this up.  I was scared shitless.  They were booking me for kidnapping and murder!  I still don’t know exactly why they let me go!” 

“None of that was planned.  When I saw the FBI breaking into your house I was hoping that I could get the police out there in time to catch them in the act and send them back to Virginia disgraced with their tails between their legs.  Unfortunately it didn’t play out that way because they had left the house before the police got there.” 

“Well why didn’t you just call in and report a prowler snooping around my house?  Why did you call in with that cockamamie story about seeing ladies underwear in my house?” 

“I decided that in addition to catching the FBI in your house, this would also be a good way to get you off the suspect board at the police station.  I told you they had you listed as a suspect and have been keeping tabs on you.  However, if you were arrested and accused of being Casanova, and then while you were in custody Casanova struck again, the police would have to eliminate you as a person of interest and stop watching you.  It happened so fast there wasn’t enough time to warn you.  And besides, your reactions might have seemed fake if you had been forewarned.  I just cleared you as a suspect.  I thought you’d be pleased.” 

So that’s why Casanova had had Dr. Chilton arrested, so he could turn around and prove him innocent and have him removed from the suspect list. 

Hannibal heard Dr. Chilton sigh and the anger drain from his voice.  “I was blindsided and frightened.  And I was there all night being accused and grilled by the police and by the FBI.  It was degrading.” 

“I know.  And you handled it beautifully.  As you know, I was there the whole time.  I loved watching you push the police and the FBI’s buttons.” 

Hannibal started at that.  Casanova was there in the police station watching Dr. Chilton being questioned? 

“Yes, but I thought that big FBI gorilla was going to break my neck when he came at me.” 

Hannibal was thinking about all the people around him when Dr. Chilton was being interrogated by Jack and Will.  Chief Hatfield was there for part of it, and Detectives Dimmond and Dolarhyde stayed to watch.  Sergeant Brown was there watching.  There was actually quite a bit of traffic coming and going, people pausing to watch for different lengths of time.  It could be anyone at the police station.  He still didn’t recognize the voice. 

“Well I have a surprise for you that I think will make up for it.  Do you want to see it?” Casanova asked in a silky, playful voice. 

“What is it?” Dr. Chilton asked, still sounding petulant but also intrigued now.  “You said something about Casanova striking again while I was in custody.  The police said they were turning me loose because further evidence had come to light.  Did you go and do something naughty?” he asked, sounding playful now.    

Casanova laughed at that, a deep, throaty laugh.  “Further evidence.  That’s a nice way of saying that I kidnapped someone else right under their noses and made them all look like idiots after that press conference Chief Hatfield held.” 

“Ooooh,” Dr. Chilton said, sounding excited now.  “Who is it?  Is it that marine biologist we were looking at with the incredible ass?” 

“It was my intention to take her in order to clear you, but then a most fortuitous opportunity arose that was even better.  Are you ready for this?” Casanova asked, waiting a few seconds for effect.  “It’s someone I got the impression you were rather hot for.  It’s one of the FBI agents.” 

There were a few seconds of stunned silence, and then Dr. Chilton said, “Nooooo!  You can’t be serious!  Are you telling me that that you kidnapped Will Graham!  And that you have him here!  Right now!!”  Dr. Chilton sounded like a kid at Christmas. 

Casanova must have nodded because Dr. Chilton said excitedly, “Oh my god!  Even when he was interrogating me I just wanted to bend him over the table and teach him some respect.  Can I see him?” 

“Right this way.  He’s out of it right now.  I gave him a hallucinogenic combined with a couple other things that will make him more agreeable and a bit more…receptive to everything that’s going to happen to him tonight.  I must say, I’m eager to see how creative you’re going to be.  Now, are you pleased?  Am I forgiven?” Casanova purred.    

“I never could stay mad at you.  So, when can we get started?  I need to work off some of this pent up anger and frustration, and nothing does that better than breaking in a new bitch.  Did you examine him?  Is he a virgin?” Dr. Chilton asked, and Hannibal could hear his breathing getting harsh. 

“Oh, he’s nice and tight, just the way you like them.  “Right this way.” 

As they moved away Hannibal crept forward and peeked out the side of the tunnel.  He saw a large open area with a high ceiling, several chairs arranged in a circle on a plush oriental rug, and a long narrow table off to the side with various implements arranged on it.  He also saw several sets of manacles set into the walls.  This was the gathering place that Abigail had described.  There was another tunnel on the side opposite him that Casanova and Dr. Chilton must have walked down that looked like it had several doors on either side.  Those were probably the rooms where the captives were held. 

He took off his shoes and moved across the gathering room and started down the other tunnel.  He heard voices coming from the end of the tunnel and saw that the last door was open, and he could hear Frederick and Casanova talking within.  He crept down the tunnel as silent as a cat, passing several doors, and he thought he caught a whiff of Alana’s sweet scent mixed in with the sharp tang of fear. 

“He’s beautiful,” Hannibal heard Dr. Chilton say.  “Maybe the best one yet.  When can we play?” 

“Since you’ve had a rough day, why don’t we make this a special night?  I was thinking Jack Crawford needs to be sent a message.  He’s like a pit-bull and I don’t think he’s going to stop looking.  But what if Agent Crawford were to find both his niece and his profiler tied to a tree with a note saying that this is all his fault?  I think that just might break him.  He’s already starting to crack.” 

“You mean kill them?” Dr. Chilton whispered. 

“Yes.  But not tonight, and certainly not until you’ve had your fill of him.  Maybe in a couple of days.  And we’ll have such fun first.  We’ll bring them both out of their rooms and I’ll let you set the tone for tonight’s fun, and we’ll do it together.  I’ll make an exception in this instance so that we can both play together.  And you can talk all you want.  It won’t really matter since they’ll both be dead soon.”    

“Can I have him first?” Dr. Chilton said, practically begging. 

“Yes, my friend.  I captured him especially for you.  You can have him however you want him, however many ways you want him, however many times you want him.  And I’ll enjoy watching you.  Now, I’m going to take a quick shower and get ready.  You can join me if you like,” Casanova said seductively. 

Hannibal quickly backed out of the tunnel and went back in the other tunnel where he couldn’t be seen, listening intently.  This was good.  He would wait until Casanova went to take his shower, and if Dr. Chilton didn’t join him he would take Dr. Chilton out first, then lie in wait for Casanova. 

He listened as two sets of footsteps came out into the big room and then he heard footsteps retreating.  When it grew quiet Hannibal peeked out to the circular room and it was empty.  Unfortunately Dr. Chilton must have decided to take Casanova up on his offer to join him in the shower. 

He tiptoed down the hall again to the last door where he had heard them talking and where Will must be.  He just wanted to check on him while he formulated a plan.  Giving a hallucinogenic cocktail to someone with encephalitis, a disease where you’re prone to hallucinations already, was potentially dangerous. 

The door was still standing open, probably because Will was drugged, and he walked to the doorway and looked inside.  There was Will lying on a twin-size bed, naked and unconscious.  The only problem was, he wasn’t alone. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready to meet Casanova? Think you know who he is? Think you know what’s coming? Well read on and see if you’re right.

There was Will lying on a twin-size bed, naked and unconscious.  The only problem was, he wasn’t alone.  A now shirtless Frederick Chilton was sitting on the side of Will’s bed running a hand up and down Will’s chest and rolling his thumb teasingly around his nipple while Will moved restlessly in his unnatural sleep.  Hannibal thought Dr. Chilton had accompanied Casanova to the shower, but apparently due to the slight echo in the large open room he had been mistaken and he had doubled back to Will’s room.     

Dr. Chilton must have sensed Hannibal’s presence in the doorway and thought it was Casanova because he said, “I want to fuck him on his back like this so I can watch his face when I push my cock into him the first time.”  But then as he turned his head and spotted Hannibal he froze, an almost comical expression appearing on his stunned face.  “How … where …”

“Hello, Frederick,” Hannibal said, recovering from his own surprise first and rushing him, wrapping an arm around his neck and cutting of his air.  He didn’t want Dr. Chilton calling out and losing him the element of surprise with the much more dangerous Casanova.  Hannibal squeezed just long enough for Dr. Chilton to lose consciousness.  He had plans for him and didn’t want him dead just yet.  He let the body fall to the ground, then looked at Will fully and his breath caught.

Casanova had not only removed all of Will’s clothes, but had tied his wrists and ankles to the metal bedframe using that red cord he favored.  Will’s body was covered in sweat and he was moving restlessly, pulling against his bonds in a semi-aroused state due either to Frederick’s fondling, or possibly something Casanova added to that cocktail he injected Will with.  Hannibal thought he looked very much like the picture on that postcard right now.  He swallowed and licked his lips, fighting the unexpected surge of heat that traveled through his body, landing squarely below the beltline.  Will laid out helpless and bare like this was bringing all of Hannibal’s predatory instincts to the forefront.   A part of him was telling him to kill both Dr. Chilton and Casanova quickly and savor the delicious banquet that was displayed so tantalizingly before him, to indulge his appetite completely until he’d had his fill.  It was so tempting, but then he would have to kill Will afterwards and get rid of the body to remove all traces of forensics evidence he might leave behind, and he was strangely loath to do that.  No, his plans for Will Graham were more long-term. 

Hannibal quickly untied Will so he could use the cord to tie up Dr. Chilton, and then gagged the man with his own tie.  When Dr. Chilton was bound tightly, Hannibal left the room and went quickly back to the tunnel he came through originally and waited in the shadows for the unveiling of Casanova.  He was extremely curious to find out Casanova’s identity.  He knew now he was someone who worked at police headquarters, but he still had no clue who he was.  Hannibal felt a surge of anticipation sharpening all his senses at the thought of his pending confrontation with this other brilliant predator and knew instinctively that this would be a worthy adversary.  

He didn’t have to wait long.  He heard bare feet slapping quietly on the floor, and when he peeked around the edge of the tunnel he saw the back of Casanova.  He was tall, over 6’, with broad shoulders, and looked to be in peak condition.  His hair was dark, wet from the shower, but would probably be medium brown when it dried.  He was wearing a black silk robe with gold Chinese characters embroidered on the back, and his legs were bare.  Hannibal supposed he didn’t need to be dressed for what he and Dr. Chilton had in store for Will and Jack’s niece. 

Hannibal crept out of the tunnel and approached Casanova from behind as quiet and as deadly as a mountain lion.  When he was almost upon him, some predatory instinct must have alerted Casanova to his presence because he turned around suddenly and looked right at him with a surprised look on his face. 

That was nothing compared with the surprise that Hannibal was feeling as he came face to face with Casanova, who was none other than Detective Anthony Dimmond. 

Hannibal watched as Detective Dimmond’s eyes analyzed the situation quickly, eyes flicking down to Hannibal’s gloved hands, which were holding no weapon, and glancing around, seeing no backup. 

“Dr. Lecter, I must say this is a surprise,” Detective Dimmond said with surprising calm and with none of that southern accent he usually spoke with, which appeared to have been just another part of his disguise.  “How did you ever find this place?” he asked, sounding curious but not at all upset. 

“I followed Dr. Chilton,” Hannibal said.  “When Casanova took Will Graham right after the police announced they had captured Casanova, I took a guess that he did so to get Dr. Chilton released.  So I followed him and he led me here.” 

“Aren’t you the clever one.  Would I be correct in assuming that you didn’t share your thoughts with the police or Jack Crawford?”    

“The police and the FBI are currently following other leads which I’m sure will take them to dead ends.  I have to say I never suspected you, detective.  After Will was taken from the motel you showed up with Chief Hatfield and the others right away.  How did you manage that?” Hannibal asked, truly curiously. 

Detective Dimmond smiled.  “It was nothing really.  When I took Will I tucked him away in the back of a van I use when I’m hunting.  I had injected him with a little something that would keep him out for at least three hours, then drove the van to a climate controlled underground parking garage two blocks from the station where I rent a parking space by the month, always paying in cash and using an alias, of course, and then walked back to the police station and waited for someone to discover him missing and call it in, thereby taking all suspicion off me.  The police and FBI have been looking into all law enforcement personnel rather closely as of late, as you know.” 

Hannibal nodded, impressed despite himself.  “And I must commend you on the accent you use while you’re Detective Dimmond.  Hearing you speak as Casanova I would never have put the two together.” 

“I was born in Texas,” Anthony said, speaking with his southern drawl again.  “You can take the boy out of the south but you can’t take the south out of the boy,” he said, smiling again.  “I took a few acting classes in college and learned how to control my accent.  Smoke and mirrors, Dr. Lecter, something I have a feeling you know quite a bit about,” he said, watching Hannibal closely. 

“Abigail only mentioned that there was one of you.  Quite brilliant of you to create that illusion.” 

“Just an added precaution,” he said.  “Dr. Chilton and I obviously share the captives and take turns with them.  While Frederick is in with Chandler I might be in with Alana.  We both always wear a mask and identical robes.  The only difference is Frederick never speaks because his voice sounds nothing like mine.  That way if one of us does get caught, the police have no reason to look for another because the captives think there’s only one of us.” 

“Plus, if one of you gets caught it gives the other one a chance to try and create some sort of alibi to make the police think they made a mistake, like you did when you kidnapped Will, thus clearing Dr. Chilton.  You really are quite brilliant, detective.” 

“Why thank you, Dr. Lecter,” Anthony said, inclining his head slightly but never breaking eye contact.  “Might I be so bold as to make an observation?” 

Hannibal nodded once. 

“I consider myself an excellent judge of character, and you look like the type of man who might appreciate the type of games that Dr. Chilton and I like to play.  I sense a kindred spirit in you, although I strongly suspect that while I like fucking bodies you like fucking minds, but I dare say we both enjoy a little overlap.  Might I entice you to spend the night with us and join in the fun?  I can assure you we’re not stingy and we have plenty to go around.  As I recall, you are a friend of Alana Bloom.  But I imagine you’ve never seen her like I’ve seen her, dressed in leather or lace, handcuffed and with a ball in her mouth, flushed and looking more vital and alive than you’ve ever seen her before.  And you can do anything you want with her,” he said seductively.  “If you want her down on her knees with that sweet mouth of hers wrapped around you, you can have it.  If you want her on her hands and knees taking every inch of you, you can have it.  You want her blindfolded, tied down and helpless, you can have it.  It is the right of predators like us to take what we want,” he said seductively.  Anthony tilted his head then studying Hannibal’s every facial nuance.  I can see that at least part of you is tempted, Dr. Lecter.” 

“What if I wanted Will Graham?” Hannibal pushed.

“I’m afraid Will is promised to Frederick first after what he went through last night.  But you can certainly have him after he’s through with him.  He is a beautiful man, is he not?  And completely untouched.  Have you ever had a man before, Dr. Lecter?  It’s such a vastly different sensual experience than taking a woman, but no less enjoyable.  If you say yes, all three of us can break him in together.  All of your deepest, darkest fantasies can come true tonight.  And if your fantasies include a little blood, that’s not a problem either, I assure you,” he said with just enough insight to remind Hannibal just how dangerous this man truly is. 

“Just…say…yesss,” Anthony said, hissing out the last word like the snake in the Garden of Eden offering Hannibal forbidden fruit. 

Anthony suddenly looked thoughtful and, still watching Hannibal closely, said, “And speaking of Frederick, I’m surprised he hasn’t made an appearance.  Would you happen to know anything about that?” he asked, and his soft tone now had a razer’s edge to it.

“I’m afraid Frederick was tired and is now taking a much needed nap in Mr. Graham’s cell.” 

“Ah.  So not dead then.  That’s good.  If my friend were dead I would be rather put out with you.  So, Dr. Lecter, what do you say to a night of pulse pounding, titillating, uninhibited sexual freedom the likes of which a buttoned up man such as yourself has probably never experienced?” he said, eyeing the suit and tie.    

Hannibal had to admit that there was a part of him that was curious, and this would definitely be something he had never done before.  Plus, that analytical part of him would love watching these two rare psychological phenomena playing with their captives.  Watching other predators at play would be a mental thrill in addition to the physical delights he was being offered.    

As much as a part of him wanted to experience what Anthony was offering him, he knew in his gut that he couldn’t trust him.  One of the most basic laws of the jungle is that if you put two apex predators together, only one is going to come out alive. 

Anthony seemed to sense the exact moment when he had made up his mind and attacked before Hannibal had a chance to even answer him.  Hannibal supposed that Anthony had been thinking along the same lines as he. 

Anthony slammed into Hannibal, making him stumble backwards until his back hit a wall and his head connected, making him see stars.  Anthony followed up by throwing a leg out and sweeping Hannibal’s feet out from under him, and he went down hard.  Hannibal reminded himself that Anthony was a detective and a trained fighter and this was not going to be an easy takedown. 

Anthony’s silk robe was sliding down his arms, interfering with his movement, so the younger man took a step back and ripped the offending garment off while Hannibal took the opportunity to get back to feet and assume a fighting stance. 

With the robe off Hannibal could see what he was up against, how powerfully built Anthony was with the corded muscles in his arms, the washboard abs, and the powerful thighs.  He was also surprised to see a large cock that was impressively aroused.  Fighting apparently just fueled his desire. 

Anthony and Hannibal circled each other, each calculating the effectiveness of certain moves, each looking for an opening.  Hannibal started backing away from Anthony, drawing him in, making him think that he was retreating and enticing him to make the next move.  Anthony suddenly swung at him hard with a powerful right cross that Hannibal just barely managed to block with his arm.  That had been close.  Hannibal knew he had to protect his face above all else because bruises and cuts would draw attention and speculation, something he absolutely did not want while being in the middle of an investigation like this where everyone was under close scrutiny. 

Hannibal threw a sharp jab to the stomach that landed solidly, making Anthony grunt and stumble back a few steps, but he recovered quickly and came at him, throwing a lightning fast hook to the face that Hannibal once again barely managed to avoid by quickly leaning back and to the side.  However, the uppercut Anthony followed up with connected solidly under Hannibal’s chin, throwing his head back and snapping his teeth together painfully as he stumbled backwards, holding his fists in front of his face to prevent another punch while he regained his equilibrium.  The punch to the stomach that followed had the breath leaving his lungs.  The power and skill behind all these punches was impressive, and Hannibal realized there was a good chance he might lose this fight unless he started fighting smarter. 

Hannibal knew he had one advantage over Anthony, and that advantage was his medical training.  He knew where every vulnerable area of the body was and how certain punches would affect them.  When Anthony came at him next he took full advantage by sidestepping him and punching him hard right below his breastbone.  Hitting the solar plexus causes the diaphragm to become partially paralyzed which in turn makes it hard to catch your breath.  It was Anthony who was backing up now, coughing and gasping as he tried to breathe.  Hannibal advanced, ready to take advantage, but Anthony surprised him by suddenly lunging at him and landing a sharp kidney punch that had Hannibal staggering back in extreme pain.  A sharp kidney punch feels similar to being electrocuted, and with the force behind that blow Hannibal knew that he would be pissing blood for several days.  Clearly he wasn’t the only one who knew the vulnerable areas of the human body. 

Hannibal needed to land an incapacitating blow and end this quickly.  Anthony was just too skilled of a fighter.  Hannibal held his left arm against his painful side, protecting it, as Anthony stalked him, the expression on his face showing he thought victory was near.  Hannibal backed away, buying time to let the pain in his side subside a bit.  If he could land a hit to the throat or the liver, Anthony would be temporarily incapacitated and he could finish him off. 

He let Anthony get closer as he weighed his options.  Anthony had his fists raised in a fighting stance covering the throat area pretty well so Hannibal decided to go for the liver.   Anthony was just about where he wanted him and Hannibal was gearing up for the hit when Anthony unexpectedly crouched down, sweeping his leg out, once again taking Hannibal’s legs out from underneath him.  Hannibal went down hard again and Anthony was immediately on top of him, hands wrapped around his throat.  

Hannibal grabbed the man’s wrists and tried to pry them off his throat, but Anthony’s grip was like iron.  Hannibal shifted his grip and used his thumbs to press down hard on the ulnar artery in both wrists.  This would cut off blood flow to both hands and make them go numb fairly quickly, hopefully before he lost consciousness.  Hannibal was growing dizzy, but he felt the grip around his throat weaken and he pushed hard, throwing Anthony off him. 

They both stood up, panting now, looking at each other with a sort of guarded respect. 

“You surprise me, Dr. Lecter.  I sensed a kindred spirit, but the depth of your fighting skill tells me I underestimated just how much of a kindred spirit you truly are.  It’s so rare to find someone whose aesthetics and skills match my own.  It’s a shame that I have to kill one of the few people who could actually understand me and accept me for who and what I am,” he said.  

“The feeling is mutual I assure you,” Dr. Lecter said. 

Hannibal started retreating backwards, stooped over slightly, trying to give the impression he was more incapacitated than he was, as Anthony closed in on him.  Hannibal finally spotted the opening he had been waiting for and then lunged forward suddenly, landing a punch on Anthony’s left side right where the liver is.  The nice thing about hitting the liver is that if you hit it just right you get the vagus nerve, which tentacles out to the rest of the body.  The brain short-circuits, the body shuts down, and the person actually feels terror. 

Anthony was looking at him wide eyed now while trying to back away as he fought the effects of the punch, his body partially paralyzed.  This would have been the perfect time to finish him off; unfortunately, at the same time Hannibal was landing his blow, Anthony had also managed to land a glancing blow off Hannibal’s throat, apparently both men having had the same strategy.  Thankfully he hadn’t made full contact with Hannibal’s Adam’s apple or Hannibal would have been just as incapacitated as Anthony was right now.  Hannibal’s coughing spell only lasted a few seconds and he recovered quickly.  But he knew the effects of his liver punch were only short-term as well, so he rushed Anthony, who was still trying to back away from him but was having difficulty due to the fact that his brain was still short-circuiting and his body wasn’t responding like it was supposed to, and Hannibal took advantage and got behind him and wrapped an arm around his neck.  He would incapacitate him and take him somewhere where he would have sufficient time for the Chesapeake Ripper to honor his death in a spectacular manner befitting such a worthy opponent.  His brain and his heart would grace Hannibal’s table in a culinary fashion fit for a king. 

Hannibal cut off Anthony’s airflow until he blacked out and then picked him up and set him on the narrow table in the room and went and found a roll of that red cord and a nice sharp hunting knife to use to cut the cord.  He was just getting ready to tie the man’s feet when he heard an unsteady shuffling gait approaching and looked up to see a still naked Will Graham approaching him.  Damnit, he hadn’t wanted to kill Will, but now it looked like he would have to.  Hannibal stood there, holding the knife and waiting to see what Will would do.  Will was flushed and sweaty, and as he drew closer Hannibal could see that his eyes were dilated and seemed to be going in and out of focus.  He watched as Will glanced up at him and then looked down at Anthony and frowned. 

Hannibal started to step around the table, gripping the knife tightly.  He supposed he could just kill Anthony here and take Will with him instead and put him in his basement and figure out what to do with him later.  It’s not what he had wanted but it was better than nothing. 

“Dad?” Will said, looking back up at Hannibal. 

Hannibal froze, mind working quickly.  Will was hallucinating and apparently seeing his father.  “Yes?” Hannibal said cautiously, watching Will’s eyes carefully and wondering how deep the hallucination went.  He made sure not to use words like “son” or “Will” as he had no idea how Will’s father addressed him.

“What have you got there?” Will asked, sounding confused while looking at Anthony. 

“What does it look like?” Hannibal asked back, watching Will’s face for any sign that he was aware of what was going on.   

“Is that one of the men who robbed our boat?” Will asked, blinking and swaying slightly, and Hannibal noticed his speech now had a sort of southern lilt to it. 

“Yes it is.  I caught him trying to sneak back on the boat,” Hannibal improvised.    

Will frown again and shook his head like he was trying to clear his mind.  “What are you going to do to him?” he asked. 

Hannibal licked his lips as he considered his answer.  “What do you think I should do with him?” 

Will stepped closer so that he was right in front of Anthony’s still form looking down at him.  Hannibal was standing on the other side of the narrow table, still holding the knife, watching and waiting.  Will was sweating and breathing heavily.  Hannibal’s nose picked up the heated sweet smell of the encephalitis, the smell stronger now, the stress and the drugs apparently fanning the flames and causing the onset to quicken.  The combination of the hallucinogenic and the encephalitis should prove to be interesting. 

As Hannibal closely watched Will looking down at Anthony’s unconscious form, Hannibal noticed Will’s body language and facial expression slowly starting to change.  His posture, his expression, both were different now.  Hannibal was confused at first because he was getting an odd sense of familiarity.  Then Will looked up at him, looked right into his eyes, no shyness or avoidance now, and he smiled a little smile that was cool and slightly condescending.  Then it suddenly dawned on him who Will reminded him of:  himself. 

Will tilted his head and said, “Well I don’t think he should be allowed to get away with this.  Stealing from us was rather rude of him, don’t you think?  He’s no better than a pig.” 

It was hard for Hannibal to keep his mouth from dropping open.  Apparently whatever Anthony had drugged him with had left his empathy wide open and there was nothing to keep it from reaching out and mirroring those around him.  If Detective Dimmond and Dr. Chilton had succeeded with their plans for Will, they might have ended up with a real tiger in their beds if Will had picked up and mirrored their aggression and lust and turned it right back around on them.  He himself could appreciate having someone in his bed who could match his own ferocity tooth for tooth, nail for nail, no holds barred.  Oh, the possibilities. 

“So,” Hannibal said finally, “what do you think we should do with this…pig?” 

Will reached across the table for the knife and Hannibal handed it to him hilt first, absolutely fascinated at this turn of events.  Anthony was just starting to stir, indicating he was waking up, but Hannibal was holding onto him, keeping him in place.  It wouldn’t take long though before he was conscious enough to realize the danger he was in and react. 

“Pigs are best suited for the table,” Will said, glancing down at the knife in his hand and then back up at him, eyes glittering.  “There is no place on boats or wharfs for pigs to be wandering around making mischief,” he said calmly, settling the grip of the knife more comfortably in his hand.  And then quicker than Hannibal had thought possible in his condition, Will jabbed the knife hard into Anthony’s stomach right above his groin and looked as if he were preparing to cut upwards toward the breastbone, essentially gutting the man, but Anthony came fully awake at that point, back arching in pain and thrashing until he managed to slip from Hannibal’s grip and slide off the table. 

Anthony looked down at his stomach and placed a hand over the wound, trying to stem the bleeding while looking up at Will, who was still holding the knife, in shock.  Will started to advance on Anthony.  Hannibal backed away so that he was blocking the tunnel and the way out in case the detective decided to make a run for it.  Hannibal was simply fascinated and wanted to see how this was going to play out.    

“Here piggy, piggy,” Will said quietly, advancing on Anthony.  “You shouldn’t have robbed us.  How can we fish and make a living when you took all our gear?  Now what are we supposed to live on?  I suppose we can live on pork for a while.”    

“What are you talking about?” Anthony said, backing away and looking shaken and confused, looking over to where Hannibal was standing, blocking the tunnel. 

Hannibal, on the other hand, was absolutely delighted with Will.  Will was taking whatever moment in his past that his drug-induced fevered mind had dredged up and was combining it with Hannibal’s own mindset, and perhaps some of Anthony’s, and fusing them together to create a totally new personality. 

Will stalked Casanova now with deadly purpose, a decidedly predatory look on his face. 

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked Hannibal. 

“Unfortunately, it appears that you gave a hallucinogenic to a person who not only has encephalitis, but who also has an empathy disorder.  Not a good combination, I’m afraid.  For you that is,” he clarified.    

Hannibal watched the two men, absolutely riveted.  Anthony was bigger and stronger than Will and a more skilled fighter, but he was wounded now and weaponless while Will had a knife and the mindset of possibly two killers.  Hannibal thought the odds were probably about even.   

As Will stalked Anthony he shook his head slightly from time to time in an attempt to keep his hallucination focused.  Anthony had blood seeping between his fingers and trailing down his legs and he was grimacing in pain, but he was backing away from Will and watching him closely and Hannibal knew he was calculating his best move.  His best move was to get the knife away from Will and kill him and then go after Hannibal and kill him.  Since he would then need medical attention, he could then try to spin a story that Hannibal was Casanova and that he had somehow tracked him to his lair and had gotten stabbed while trying to rescue the victims.  That’s what Hannibal would do in his place. 

Anthony finally lunged at Will and grabbed the wrist with the knife and twisted it sharply, trying to get Will to drop it.  Will’s wrist was at a painful angle but he held onto the knife and used his free hand to blindly punch in the general vicinity of the wound in Anthony’s stomach.  Anthony stumbled back holding his stomach with both hands, his face a mask of pain.  Will quickly advanced on him, and the way he was holding the knife Hannibal thought he was going to try for a throat slash, but Anthony managed to grab hold of both his wrists this time, once again twisting the wrist with the knife to try to get Will to drop it. 

With his hands occupied and not putting pressure on the wound, Anthony was bleeding heavily, and the exertion was making his heart beat faster, which in turn made him lose blood faster.  While Will and Anthony were struggling, Anthony’s bare feet slid in the pooled blood and he fell backward, taking Will with him since he was still holding onto his wrists.  Will landed on top of Anthony and the pain to Anthony’s stomach must have been excruciating, but he held tight to Will’s wrists.  Will sat up so that he was sitting astride Anthony and managed to wrap both hands around the knife hilt despite Anthony’s grip on his wrists.  Will had the knife tip pointed toward Anthony’s chest and was pushing the knife down with a look of fierce determination on his face.  

Hannibal moved closer and squatted down so he could see both their faces better.  He could see that Anthony was pale now, both from pain and loss of blood.  The knife was lowering slowly toward his chest an inch at a time as blood continued to ooze out of the wound in his stomach.  Finally the knife tip was touching his flesh right above his heart and Hannibal held his breath, waiting for Will to make the kill.  Anthony seemed to have a final burst of adrenalin, knowing death was near, and struggled harder.  The knife started to retract.  Will leaned forward putting his full weigh into it, and the knife started lowering again.  The knife tip touched skin, then finally pierced flesh, a drop of red now showing.  Will was sweating profusely and the cords in his arms and neck were standing out as Anthony fought to keep the knife from entering his chest.  Slowly the knife tip disappeared into Anthony’s chest.  Anthony looked as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.  Hannibal was sure he was wondering how choosing Will had made everything go so horribly wrong. 

The knife sank slowly into Anthony’s chest until it was about halfway in; then Anthony’s hands fell limply away and the knife plunged in easily the rest of the way all the way to the hilt.  Will pulled the knife out and collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily, nuzzling his neck and inhaling deeply.  Finally, he stood up, knife still in hand, his entire torso covered in blood. 

Hannibal stood up and just stared.  He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. 

Will was swaying a bit when he said, “I’m going to sit down now, dad.  I don’t feel so good.”  He dropped the knife and went over to an adjacent wall and slumped down on the floor, his back pressed against the wall, his hands on the floor on either side of him, his right leg straight out but his left leg bent and to the side. 

Will looked over at the body, and in his drug addled, fevered mind he saw that the thief was still alive, sitting up, covered in blood and pointing, saying, _See!  See!_   Will looked to where he was pointing…and he was pointing at his dad, although his dad’s image was wavering slightly.  He blinked and shook his head and looked back at the thief questioningly, but he was laying down again, clearly dead. 

Hannibal saw Will look between the body and him and wondered what Will had seen.  He went and squatted down in front of Will, careful not to step in any of the blood, and looked him over.  Wills lips were slightly parted and he was breathing heavily, his body was flushed a most becoming pink, his eyes were heavy lidded, his hair was soaked and curls were sticking to his face, and he was aroused, no doubt Casanova’s contribution to his mindset.  The expression on his face was that in-between expression that could be interpreted as either pleasure or pain…or possibly both.  Sometimes there’s a very fine line between the two.  As Hannibal’s eyes traveled over Will, he knew then that this shy little profiler was made for violence.  He had been magnificent to watch, and was so beautiful like this covered in blood and sweat after making a kill.  Hannibal inhaled deeply.  The scent of Will’s encephalitis mixed with the smell of Anthony’s blood created a uniquely sweet metallic scent that Hannibal found quite enjoyable. 

Hannibal stood up and shifted the front of his pants uncomfortably.  He was not unaffected by the sight.  Casanova wasn’t the only one who was attracted to exceptional individuals.  They certainly had had that in common. 

Hannibal stepped away and went looking for Anthony’s cell phone.  He knew that Will’s cell phone was back in his motel room, so when he found Anthony’s phone he left it in plain sight where Will could easily find it.  He wanted Will to call in the cavalry once he was gone.  He would take Dr. Chilton with him but leave Casanova as he was, dead by Will’s own hand.  It was absolutely perfect.  He couldn’t have planned this better if he had tried. 

He searched until he found Detective Dimmond’s supply of drugs and then loaded a syringe and went to where he had left Dr. Chilton and gave the awake and struggling Dr. Chilton the sedative.  He then gathered up the man’s shirt and jacket, and, after locating Dr. Chilton’s car keys in his pocket, he picked the man up and tossed him over his shoulder, and then walked a bit painfully toward the tunnel and the way out.  He was definitely going to be feeling that kidney punch for a few days.  Before he left he took one last look at Will, who was now asleep, chin on his chest, breathing evenly.  He took a mental photograph and then turned and headed out. 

Hannibal left the underground lair and walked to Dr. Chilton’s car and put Dr. Chilton in the trunk.  He drove the car about a half-mile down the road until he saw another of those small dirt roads, then turned off and drove until he spotted a thick section of trees and bushes and parked the car behind them.  Thankfully Dr. Chilton’s car was navy and not white or some other bright color that might be easily spotted.  He walked the half-mile back to his own car, having to duck behind a tree only once when he spotted headlights coming his way, then retrieved his own car and drove it back to where he left Dr. Chilton’s car and transferred Dr. Chilton into his own trunk.  He then drove home to get Dr. Chilton situated and to wait for tomorrow.  It was sure to be a most interesting day.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Jazzy2may who actually created cover art for this story! Check out the link above to see it, and make sure you show her a little love and appreciation while you’re at it.


	15. Chapter 15

Hannibal called Jack bright and early the next morning, making sure to keep his voice somber as he asked if there had been any news about Will and to offer his assistance, and was pleased to hear Jack sounding both ecstatic and harried as he said Will had been found and to meet him at John Hopkins Hospital and they would talk further.  Hannibal hung up smiling.  That meant Will had found the phone and made the call and they had found him and Casanova and the others.  He would have loved seeing the look on all their faces when they discovered that Detective Dimmond was Casanova and that shy little FBI profiler had been the one to kill him. 

Hannibal drove up to the hospital 30 minutes later and it was literally a madhouse.  The hospital was surrounded by the press and a crowd of curious onlookers as word must have leaked out that the hostages had been rescued.  He had to park a couple blocks away and walk to the hospital where Sergeant Brown was standing guard at the door keeping the press out, but when the sergeant spotted him he waved him on through. 

Once he was inside he saw quite a bit of activity here as well, but he and Jack spotted each other at the same time and Jack waved him over.  Jack looked exhausted, but also excited. 

“Dr. Lecter, you okay?  You’re limping,” Jack said. 

“Oh, I pulled a groin muscle trying to move my desk,” Hannibal said, smiling.  He was still suffering from that kidney punch he had taken; and lugging Dr. Chilton around after that certainly hadn’t helped. 

“Ouch,” Jack said. 

“What is all this?” Hannibal asked.   

“We got him, Dr. Lecter,” Jack said excitedly with a big grin on his face.  “We got Casanova.” 

“And he’s here at the hospital?” Hannibal asked, playing dumb. 

“Uh, sort of.  He’s in the morgue.  He’s dead.  It appears that Will Graham managed to kill him and then call me for help.” 

Hannibal could see Jack was deciding how much to tell him at this point. 

“And you found your niece and all the hostages alive and well?” Hannibal nudged. 

“Yes,” Jack said with a big smile.  “They’re all getting checked out, but they appear to be in good health.  Keke will need some time, but she’s got a really supportive boyfriend and he’s in talking with her right now.  Your friend Alana is quite a woman.  She’s been going from room to room and offering emotional support to the other kidnap victims.” 

Hannibal smiled at that.  That certainly sounded like Alana.  He had to admit it would be good to see her again.  “So, tell me, Jack, I’m dying to know.  Who was Casanova?” 

“You won’t believe this,” Jack said, looking like he was still having trouble wrapping his head around it.  “It was Detective Dimmond.” 

“Nooo!” Hannibal said with a suitably stunned look on his face.  “How can that be?” 

“We’re still trying to piece that together ourselves.  We’ve gotten bits and pieces put together going through his lair and his home, but Will was drugged pretty heavily, talking about his father and a thief and a boat and not making much sense, so we don’t really know what went down at the end.  The doctor put him on an IV of something that’s flushing the drugs out of his system and we’re hopeful he’ll be able to fill in some of the rest of it once the drugs are out of his system.” 

“So,” Hannibal said, “tell me what happened.” 

“I get a call in the middle of the night from a number I don’t recognize.  I answer it and it’s Will, but he sounds strange.  He just says, ‘Jack, help me.  Find me,’ and that’s it, he keeps saying help me.  So I call Baltimore P.D. and have them trace the call, then me and the whole Baltimore police force go out into the middle of the woods where we don’t see a goddamn thing except for a van parked out in the middle of nowhere.  But we figure if there’s a van then someone had to have driven it here.  So everyone’s combing the area in the dark until someone spots a set of doors set into the ground. 

“So Casanova’s lair was underground?” Hannibal said.  “No wonder Abigail said the house just disappeared.” 

“Yeah, we’re still getting all the facts together, but I had someone check historical records from the 1800’s and found out there used to be a large planation sitting near that spot that belonged to the Montague Family.  They were a wealthy family that owned hundreds of acres of land where they grew tobacco.  During the Civil War the house was looted and set fire to and the entire family was killed with no surviving members to claim the land, so the land reverted back to the state which eventually turned it into part of the protected wildlife preserve.  Apparently the plantation also had an elaborate tunnel system with rooms for storing food, animal feed, equipment, and other miscellaneous items, but it also had rooms for locking up unruly slaves or runaways since Maryland was a slave state back in the seventeen and eighteen hundreds.  So the underground tunnel system lay undiscovered and survived the fire that destroyed the rest of the homestead.  As you know, we had checked the county records looking for houses in that area, but the records we looked at were all from this century.  Somehow Detective Dimmond found out about it, and with a little carpentry work turned it into his secret hideout where he kept his collection.”  

“Amazing,” Hannibal said.  “And really quite brilliant,” he added. 

“Anyway, so we go in with guns at the ready preparing for just about anything only to find…”  Jack stopped at this and looked at Dr. Lecter.  “We don’t know exactly what happened, but we found Detective Dimmond naked and stabbed through the stomach and heart, and Will sitting on the ground nearby, wearing a black robe and covered in his blood looking pretty shaken up.  When Detective Dolarhyde saw his partner dead and Will covered in blood and apparently uninjured, he assumed Will had killed his partner and tried to attack him.  It took four officers to drag him outside.  It was all pretty confusing at first, I don’t mind telling you.  Will was confused and upset and barely able to put two words together. 

At first we all just assumed that somehow Detective Dimmond had been kidnapped by Casanova as well.  We finally started piecing it together when we found the detective’s fingerprints over every square inch of the place.” 

“That’s incredible” Hannibal said.  “He was right under our noses the entire time.” 

“Chief Hatfield has been making himself scarce since then.  I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes right now, I can tell you.  Imagine the humiliation of having someone who’s the head of your taskforce end up being the very culprit he’s been tasked with tracking down.  And he was getting paid for it!  No wonder Baltimore P.D. never made any real headway into the case.  That would be like me having the Chesapeake Ripper working for the FBI!” Jack said chuckling.  “Chief Hatfield might as well just retire now because his career is over,” he said, not quite covering his smug look. 

Hannibal just smiled and nodded.  Oh, the irony.  Casanova certainly would have appreciated it.  If he were still alive, that is. 

“And there’s one other thing,” Jack said. 

“And what’s that?” Hannibal asked. 

“We also found Dr. Chilton’s fingerprints all over the place.  It looks like he was also part of this after all.  We sent a unit to his home to arrest him, but he wasn’t there.  His car is also missing.  There’s a good chance he’s on the run, but we’ll find him,” Jack said confidently.  “We’ve put out an APB and will use the press to plaster his picture all over the country.  There won’t be a rock big enough for him to crawl under.” 

“That is good news indeed, Jack,” Hannibal said, picturing Dr. Chilton in his basement strapped to a table, his tongue already removed and currently marinating in his refrigerator. 

 “I’m just waiting for my brother and his wife to arrive,” Jack said, looking toward the door and fidgeting nervously.  “Why don’t you go and pay Will and Alana a visit,” Jack suggested. 

“I think I will.  Listen, Jack, before I go, if what you say is true and Will did manage to kill Detective Dimmond under the influence of drugs and can’t remember it, he may feel confused, have conflicting feelings, or even feel guilty about it.  I understand that most law enforcement agencies require counseling after a kill.  Since I am a psychiatrist and am in the unique position of being aware of the entire situation, I would like to offer my services to Will when he’s well enough.  I would offer them pro bono as a way of saying thank you from a grateful city for Will’s help in ridding the city of this predator.  Plus, he might feel more comfortable discussing it with someone he knows.  I’ve noticed that it takes Will some time to warm up to strangers.” 

“Well that’s extremely kind of you, Dr. Lecter,” Jack said with surprise.  “And that sounds like an excellent idea.  I’ll talk it over with Will when he’s up and around and get back to you.” 

“It’s my pleasure, Jack.  And now I think I will pay Will a visit and see how he’s doing.”  As Hannibal walked down the hallway he was smiling.  Things had turned out even better than he had anticipated.  He knew that he had planted the seed in Jack’s mind that Will would need to talk to someone about what happened, and in offering his services for free there was really no reason for Jack or Will to refuse.  All he had to do now was sit back and wait for Will to come to him. 

Hannibal found Will’s room, but he wasn’t alone.  A smiling Abigail Hobbs was sitting next to him on the side of his bed talking to him, and there was a lovely vase of flowers on the bedside table that he would guess she had brought. 

“Abigail, how nice to see you again,” Hannibal said. 

“Hello, Dr. Lecter.”

“But this time I’m the patient and she’s the visitor,” Will said, sitting upright in the bed and smiling.  “How things change in the matter of a couple days.” 

“Well, it was good seeing both of you,” Abigail beamed, standing up.  “I want to pay a visit to the others. We’ve been through so much together I feel really close to them.”  She paused then and said, “I don’t know what we would have done without you.  The two of you are literally my heroes,” she said, giving Will an unexpected hug, and then going to Hannibal and hugging him as well and then fleeing out the door, her cheeks slightly pink. 

Hannibal had to admit it felt rather nice being perceived as the good guy. He walked over to Will’s bed and looked at the IV bag that was slowly dripping fluid into a tube that was taped to the crook of Will’s arm.  “So, Will, how are you feeling?” 

“Confused.” 

“Have you been able to remember anything that happened?” Hannibal asked, watching Will’s face carefully. 

“I remember arguing with Jack and going back to the motel and Casanova was in my room waiting for me.  We fought but he was incredibly strong and had a cloth soaked in chloroform.  The next thing I remember I’m in an unfamiliar place and Detective Dimmond is lying nearby naked and dead and I’m naked and covered in blood.  I felt dizzy and disoriented and I couldn’t tell if what I was seeing was real or not.  I was pretty freaked out, I don’t mind telling you.  I found a phone and managed to call Jack.  I had no idea until just a little while ago that Detective Dimmond was in fact Casanova.  I just wish I could remember what happened.  I don’t like having this blank section of time in my head.  Jack says the evidence points to me killing Detective Dimmond with a knife, but I don’t see how that’s even possible.” 

“Well, if you’d like, I can try hypnotizing you like I did Abigail and see if I can draw anything out of your subconscious.” 

Will frowned, becoming suddenly uneasy at the idea of Dr. Lecter hypnotizing him and he wasn’t sure why.  He had watched him hypnotize Abigail and it wasn’t a big deal, but then he wasn’t comfortable having anyone inside his head, so that was probably why.  To cover up his frowning, which he knew Dr. Lecter couldn’t have helped but notice, he said, “I wish we could have saved them all, but I suppose it could have been so much worse than just losing two of them.  I guess Bethany Silversmith’s body will be found eventually.”    

“Don’t think of the two lost, think of the seven you saved, Will.  The two he killed happened before you even got here.  There was nothing you could have done.” 

“I know you’re right,” Will said, creasing his blanket and running it through his fingers.  “But that doesn’t make their families and friends feel any better.”  After a few seconds of silence he said, “I met your friend Alana.  She stopped by to see how I’m doing.  I know she was trying to shrink me, make sure I’m emotionally okay, but I enjoyed talking to her,” he said with a shy smile that told Hannibal that Will had been taken with Alana.  “Were you two seeing each other before she was kidnapped?” he asked a little too matter of factly, fooling no one. 

“No.  Alana and I are just colleagues and friends.” 

Will nodded.  “Do you know if she was seeing anyone?  Anyone serious, I mean?” he asked, fingering his blanket.    

“Alana has never had a shortage of males pursuing her, but I don’t think she was in any kind of serious relationship.” 

Will nodded again, smiling bigger now. 

“I got the impression you didn’t like psychiatrists,” Hannibal countered, folding his arms across his chest.   

“I guess I do when they have big blue eyes and a cute little overbite,” he said shyly, looking up at Hannibal, eyes twinkling.  “No offense to you, Dr. Lecter.” 

“None taken.”  Hannibal said.  But he was surprised at the little stab of jealously he suddenly felt.  Maybe it was time for a little distraction to get Will’s thoughts off that particular train of thought.  Now that Casanova was dead it was time for the Chesapeake Ripper to come out of his lengthy hibernation.  Yes, it had been far too long.  He would wait until Will was up and about first, and then the Ripper would resurface in grand style.  And, as it just so happened, he had the perfect tableau already planned out.  He could hardly wait. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two chapters left!


	16. Chapter 16

Will had been given a week off after the Casanova incident to rest up, and he was finally back at work setting up his laptop for the first class of the day.  It had been nice being home with the dogs for a week, but he’d spent too much time in his own head thinking about things, so it would be good to get back into a routine, get his life back to normal after everything that had happened.  And then Jack Crawford walked into the classroom. 

“Will,” Jack said without preamble, “we think the Ripper has stuck again, but I need you to take a look and confirm it.” 

“I don’t think you need me for that, Jack,” Will said, glancing up at him and continuing to set up his laptop.  “I mean, the Ripper’s work is pretty self-evident.” 

“Normally I would say that’s true, but there’s a bit of a twist to this one that makes me question it and I would just like you to take a look and tell me if you think it’s him.” 

“As intriguing as that sounds, Jack, my class starts in 15 minutes.”  

“I’ve already assigned an agent to take over your classes for the day.  Pack up your stuff and let’s go.” 

Will looked up at Jack in exasperation, then shoved his laptop back in the bag.  So much for routine. 

When they got outside Will was surprised to see a helicopter waiting for them on the grounds nearby.  “Where exactly are we going?” he asked. 

“A town called Eagle Harbor, Maryland.”  Jack didn’t say any more and he was strangely quiet about the details of the crime scene during the 20 minute ride.  All he would tell Will was that he needed to see it for himself. 

Eagle Harbor is a small, fairly unremarkable town, its only blip on the radar being it is the home of Verger Meat Packing, one of the largest meatpacking plants in the U.S.  Will remembered reading a story recently in _Tattlecrime_ that the Verger family had been hit with a huge lawsuit, accused of dumping animal waste in the harbor, but ended up with a mere slap on the wrist due to the efforts of a high priced lawyer.  Will was surprised when they actually landed on the grounds of the plant. 

“You’re telling me the Ripper left the body here?” Will asked, sounding incredulous.  “At a meatpacking plant?” 

“Not at it.  On it.  It’s on the roof.  A traffic helicopter spotted it early this morning while doing their traffic report and called it in.” 

They entered a huge building and were waved through by security.  Looking through glass walls that separated the entry area from the plant itself, Will saw state-of-the-art machinery and conveyer belts with packaged meat moving on them.  Although it looked clean and he was separated from the actual assembly area by a glass wall, the faint smell of raw meat permeated the air and gave him a queasy feeling, a sense that this was a preamble of what was to come.  They got in an elevator that took them to the top floor three floors up; then Jack led Will to a door that led to a stairwell that led up to the roof. 

“How the hell would the Ripper have even been able to get a body up here unseen?  It seems more likely that it’s an employee pulling a copycat,” Will said.    

“You’ll understand why I don’t think that’s the case when you see the body,” Jack said mysteriously. 

As they opened the door that led to the vast roof, Will saw a huge white tent, the kind you see at outdoor weddings, as well as a veritable beehive of activity as the FBI forensics team was combing every square inch of the rooftop looking for clues. 

“We had to put a tent up over the crime scene because as soon as word got out, news helicopters started buzzing overhead,” Jack explained. 

“What about security footage in the building?” Will asked. 

“The two night guards were found unconscious this morning, apparently drugged, and all the security cameras had been shut off and the footage was missing,” Jack said.  “All right, everyone,” Jack yelled, clapping his hands for emphasis, “clear this area and give us some privacy.” 

The tent emptied out and Will received several curious stares, and everyone went and stood on the far side of the roof so that Jack and Will were the only ones near the tent. 

“Go on in and take a look,” Jack said, hanging back and waving his arm toward the tent entrance.  Whatever was inside the tent, apparently Jack had seen enough. 

Will entered the tent and froze.  There were two parts to this tableau.  Will’s eyes focused first on the part to the right, which was a naked body skewered on a spit like a pig at a pig roast.  Since Will was currently looking at the body from the rear, he saw that the spit went through the body’s anal cavity.  He could also see that the legs had been cut off at the knees. 

He swallowed as he walked around to the side to get a better look.  A male body.  He could see now that the arms were cut off at the elbow.  The shortened limbs gave the body more of a pig-like shape.  Will squatted down and looked under the man and saw that he was cut open and gutted just like a roasting pig.  There were fresh logs situated underneath the body giving the impression the body was ready for roasting.  He stood up, his breathing picking up as he was getting a strange feeling of familiarity.  He walked around to front and saw the spit’s point of exit was through the man’s mouth.  There was an apple in his mouth skewered by the spit which held the apple in place.  The head and face had been cleanly shaved, again giving the man a more porcine appearance.  Will squatted down and swallowed hard as he looked into the dead eyes of Dr. Frederick Chilton.  Now he understood what Jack meant. 

How was it that one predator they were looking for just happened to have killed another one they were looking for?  Or was this just a happy coincidence.  No, what was it Dr. Lecter had said about coincidence?  _“In my experience there is no such thing as coincidence.  There are no accidents in life. Everything that happens is the result of a calculated move that leads us to where we are.”_   Will shook his head.  Thinking about Dr. Lecter right now unsettled him. 

He stood up and took a deep breath and turned around and looked at the second part of the Ripper’s design.  It was set up about eight feet away from Dr. Chilton.  He stood back so he could look at the overall picture from a distance first. There was a long table covered with a white damask tablecloth.  From where he stood he could see china dishes, silverware, glasses, and red cloth napkins set up around the table.  A long, lush centerpiece ran down the middle of the table made up of large sunflowers and other colorful summer flowers, twigs and leafy branches, pink ribbon, ears of dried maize, a bowl of apples and other fruit.  And at the head of the table was a silver domed tray.  Everything looked beautiful and welcoming and festive from a distance. 

He moved closer then and started picking up details that weren’t so lovely now.  For one thing, what he thought was pink ribbon winding its way through the display turned out to be not ribbon at all, but intestine.  He spotted pieces of bone and teeth also woven into the centerpiece.  The small bones would probably prove to be Dr. Chilton’s finger and toe bones.  Will swallowed as he had the uncomfortable feeling that Dr. Chilton had still been alive when the Ripper had removed them.  Will noticed a pancreas added to a bowl of fruit in the center of the table, and as he walked around the table he spotted a couple of other organs incorporated into the display.  Keeping track of the organs in his mind as he spotted them, the lungs and heart and liver were still unaccounted for when he had finished circling the table.   

He stood at the head of the table now where the silver domed tray was.  By the condensation on the outside of the fitted dome, Will knew that whatever lay underneath the dome was chilled.  Will looked up and saw that Jack had entered the tent.  “What’s under here?” Will asked.  “Did you look?” 

“I looked,” Jack said, “which is why it’s covered back up.  See for yourself.” 

Will wrapped his fingers around the handle of the dome and lifted it.  It took a few seconds for a cool white mist under the dome to dissipate and the display to take shape.  There, sitting on a plate was Dr. Chilton’s genitalia, artfully displayed, a piece of red cord tied around the shriveled shaft into a little bow.  Will’s heartbeat increased as he recognized the red cord immediately as the same cord Casanova had used.  But how would the Ripper even know about that?  That was never made public. 

The plate itself was sitting on a thin block of dry ice which is what had caused the white mist to swirl around it when he took off the dome and had given it a surreal appearance.  Will had noticed that the other plates around the table were decorated with different farm animals around their borders—one a cow, one a pig, one a sheep, etc., all meat producing animals—but this plate was different than the others because this plate had a circle of colorful roosters around the border of the plate.  _Oh._   Will, couldn’t help it.  He slapped a hand over his mouth and stifled the giggle that almost escaped him.  What’s another name for a rooster?  A cock.  So, it seemed that the Ripper had a sense of humor.  In fact, this whole setup seemed a bit out of character for the Ripper.  It seemed almost…playful in a way.  He frowned.  He could definitely see why Jack wanted a second opinion on this.    

After he replaced the dome back over the cock plate he stepped back and looked at the entire design as a whole, and then closed his eyes and let the pendulum swing … fwum … fwum.  After a couple of minutes he smiled again, despite himself.  If the body had belonged to anyone other than Dr. Chilton he would have felt angry or sad, but he just couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about the death of a sexual predator and possible accomplice to murder.  He walked back over to Jack. 

“Well?  Is this the Ripper’s work?” 

“Oh, yes,” Will said, “and he’s making quite the statement here.” 

“And what statement is that?” Jack asked. 

“First of all, that Dr. Chilton was a pig and deserved to be served up as such.  So he butchered him like a pig.  And placing him on top of one of the largest meatpacking plants in the country is the Ripper’s way of saying, _I am at the very top of the food chain, and any other predator who dares infringe on my hunting grounds will be served up on my table like the prey that they are._   It’s entirely possible that the Ripper had been looking for Casanova himself once Casanova started making a name for himself in the Ripper’s territory,” Will continued, “but maybe he couldn’t figure out who he was any more than the police could.  But once Casanova was dead and Dr. Chilton was identified as his accomplish and on the run, the Ripper somehow managed to track him down.” 

“And what about the part under the dome?” Jack asked. 

“I get the impression that that was left for you.” 

“Me?” 

“Dr. Chilton sexually assaulted your niece.  The Ripper has served up the offending organ with a little red bow tied around it, and he left it at the head of the table.  You are the head of the behavioral sciences unit and the one who is always called in on his kills, so I think in a way he left it as a gift for you.  The Ripper probably finds sexual predators rude.” 

“Rude.  Well, I hate to say it,” Jack said, “but this is the first Ripper kill I haven’t been upset about.  If I knew who he was I might even send him a fruit basket to thank him.  What I am concerned about is that this signals that two more bodies will be turning up soon.”  Jack exited the tent.  All right, people,” Will heard him yell out, clapping his hands again, “back to work.  One predator is dead but we have another one to catch, and according to his message here he is the biggest, baddest predator on the block, so we need to find him.” 

While the forensics team scattered all over the roof and went back to work, Will studied the design again.  He circled the table slowly, taking in every detail, and there was a lot of detail to take in.  He’d seen crime scene photos of the Ripper’s work in the past, and despite their gruesome nature they were always rather artistic and beautiful in a way. 

Will stopped as he noticed a touch of red against the white tablecloth peeking out from underneath a large leaf that he had missed seeing the first time around.  He took a latex-gloved hand and lifted the leaf up.  It was the end of another piece of that same red cord Casanova used.  Will had a sudden feeling of foreboding that whatever the other end of the string was attached to was left for him since he had also been involved in the Casanova case.  If the cock was left for Jack, what had the Ripper left for him?  And if this was for him, why was it hidden? 

He followed the red cord, having to push aside a couple of flowers and leaves, and then, there, sitting on another large leaf was Dr. Chilton’s heart, and the string was tied into a bow around the heart.  Will frowned, confused.  What in the world was that supposed to mean?  Symbolically a heart wrapped with a bow around it was seen universally as a token of love or affection.  But that didn’t make sense.  He had no idea what message the Ripper was going for with this and he felt suddenly a bit off balance by it.  No, this couldn’t have been left for him, he reasoned.  The Ripper would have had no idea that he would even be called in on this case, so this was most definitely not meant for him.  Maybe it was left for Beverly, the pretty oriental woman that was a regular part of Jack’s team.  He let the flowers and leaves drop back over it and kept his mouth shut.  Let forensics find it later and puzzle over its meaning.  As he walked away though the lingering shadow of doubt wouldn’t leave him that it had been left for him.    

Will walked out of the tent and joined Jack.  “You know, this crime scene is practically gift-wrapped.”   

“Hmm,” Jack said.  “I suppose it is.  It’d be nice if the Ripper turned over a new leaf and started exclusively going after other predators, but that’s just wishful thinking.  Listen, Will, I’d like you to be a permanent member on the Ripper taskforce.  The Ripper’s been outsmarting us for too long now and I need to bring someone onboard who can look at his work with fresh eyes and give us new insight.” 

“Jack, I have classes.  Why don’t you call Dr. Lecter in on this case?  You seemed very impressed with him while we were in Baltimore.” 

“Speaking of Dr. Lecter …” 

“Must we?” 

“He’s offered you some therapy sessions pro bono, and since he’s already familiar with what you went through I think it’s a good idea.” 

“I don’t need therapy.  Besides, therapy doesn’t work on me.” 

“Therapy doesn’t work on you because you won’t let it.” 

“And because I know all the tricks.” 

“Well, perhaps you need to un-learn some tricks.  Why not have a conversation with him?  He was there.  He knows what you went through.  That right there will cut through a lot of the awkward bullshit.” 

When Will refused to commit Jack said, “Listen Will, you used to work Homicide but didn’t have the stomach for killing.  You just killed someone up close and personal with a knife, and as far as I can tell you don’t feel bad about it!” 

“Why should I?  He was a kidnapper, a killer and a rapist.  Besides, I don’t even remember doing it.” 

“And that doesn’t seem like a problem to you?  I can order it but I’d rather you volunteered.  Come on, Will, this is so I can get some sleep at night. I need my beauty sleep!” 

“Fine, I’ll go to a couple of sessions.  Happy?” 

“Ecstatic.  Now why don’t I get you home so you can get some rest, and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.” 

“Tomorrow?  I have classes tomorrow!” 

“I’ll get someone to take your classes.” 

Will sighed.  He suddenly felt like his life was not his own anymore, that his whole universe was tilting precariously on its axis right now and he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.  He felt a headache coming on and took the aspirin tin he carried out of his pocket and downed a couple of aspirin while wiping the sweat off his overly warm face with his sleeve.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left. Join me in one week for the final chapter of The Collector.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the conclusion of "The Collector," my alternate Hannibal Season 1.

_Three days later …_

Hannibal was sitting at his desk reading Freddie Lounds’ latest article on the Chesapeake Ripper case and smiling with amusement.  _You are so naughty_ , Ms. Lounds, he thought, shaking his head as he read her rather delightful and creative interpretation as to why she thought Frederick’s genitalia had been left at the head of the table for the FBI. 

Hannibal was just relaxing while waiting for his last patient of the day to arrive, one he was highly anticipating.  He looked up and smiled when he heard a timid knock on his office door and, after shutting the tablet off and putting it on the desk, crossed the room and opened the door to find Will Graham standing there looking ill at ease with his glasses on and his hands in his pockets, all his defenses clearly in place.   

“Will, come in,” he said, stepping aside and smiling pleasantly.  “It’s good to see you looking so well.” 

“I told Jack that I didn’t need therapy, but he insisted,” Will said grumpily as he walked into the room.  “I mean, I wasn’t sexually assaulted like the others were.  You should have offered your services to them, not me.” 

“They also didn’t kill a man—you did.  Listen Will, we’ll just talk, and if you feel like this isn’t helping you I’ll rubber stamp you and send you on your way,” Hannibal said, inwardly smiling at the hopeful look that suddenly appeared on Will’s face.  Hannibal could tell that Will really did not want to be here, but if Hannibal had his way they’d be seeing a lot more of each other. 

Will was too nervous to sit just yet, so he walked over to a bronze figure of a stag that was sitting on a pedestal and studied it, but then froze as he suddenly felt Dr. Lecter standing right behind.  He then tensed further as he heard him inhale.  “Did you just smell me?” he asked incredulously, turning around and facing Hannibal, who was standing way too close to him.    

Hannibal took a step back and said, “I apologize, Will, but I have a very sensitive nose and can often pick up on a person’s emotional state simply by their scent.  Unfortunately I’m having a bit of trouble picking up on yours because you’re wearing that cologne again,” Hannibal admonished.    

“Oh boy,” Will said, looking apologetic.  “I forgot that you’re allergic to it.  I put it on out of habit.  I’m sorry, Dr. Lecter.”  After a few seconds pause he said, “I wouldn’t mind wearing whatever cologne it is that you wear,” he said matter-of-factly, turning and examining the pictures on Hannibal’s wall now.  “But I don’t suppose it’s something I can just pick up at the corner drugstore,” he joked.  “It does have a nice woodsy smell to it though, which I like.  What’s it called?” 

“It doesn’t have a name.  I had it blended by a perfumer to my specific tastes while I was in Paris.” 

Will nodded.  “Do I smell sandalwood?” 

“Very good,” Hannibal said, impressed.  “It’s a combination of sandalwood, ambergis, mountain sage, bergamot, patchouli, ylang ylang, with just a hint of Indian jasmine.”   

“Well, it’s very nice.” Will said, looking at Hannibal now, hands still in his pockets. 

“Shall we be seated?” Hannibal said, indicating two black leather chairs facing each other.  “I promise to make this as painless as possible.” 

Will sat down and immediately looked off to the side.  Hannibal sat down as well and crossed his legs and just observed him.  Just in the short amount of time it had taken Will to sit, Hannibal could tell he had retreated into his own mind.  He wondered what was suddenly occupying that incredible mind of his.  And he was rubbing that luscious lower lip of his. 

“You’re frowning, Will,” Dr. Lecter said after a few seconds of observation, bringing Will out of his thoughts. 

“Oh, sorry, Dr. Lecter,” Will said, looking self-conscious and dropping his hand away from his mouth.  “It’s just this meeting, seeing you again, it’s dredging up memories from that time.  Maybe I do need to talk about it,” he sighed, looking up at Hannibal, looking frustrated. 

“Then let’s begin, shall we?  I want to know all about you, Will.” 

Will relaxed back into his chair and crossed his own legs, mirroring him.  “You’re the doctor,” he said with a pained grin, looking resigned. 

“First off, how are you doing physically since physical health can affect emotional health?  Anything I should know?” he asked, prying for information. “Any medications you’re taking?” 

“I’m currently taking antibiotics.  The doctor at the hospital thinks I may have a mild infection that’s causing me to run a slight fever, but other than that I was given a clean bill of health.” 

_A mild infection._   “That’s excellent news,” Hannibal said, smiling. 

They sat and talked for 30 minutes.  Well, sort of.  Getting Will to open up was like pulling teeth, but Hannibal was in no hurry.  Will had asked him a few questions as well and Hannibal had answered them in an effort to establish rapport and get Will to relax.  He would be patient initially and take things slow, and Will would eventually succumb to the rather unorthodox method of therapy that he already had in mind for him. 

As the appointment came to an end Hannibal walked Will to the door and said, “Same time next week, Will?” 

Will smiled up at him awkwardly with his hands tucked back in his pockets and nodded.  “You know, I really feel like this session has helped me.  Thank you, Dr. Lecter.” 

“My pleasure.  One other thing, Will.  I’m planning to host a dinner party in a couple of weeks and I would like to invite you.” 

_A dinner party.  Why did that trigger a little ping in his brain?_ “Isn’t it rather unorthodox for a psychiatrist to invite his patient to a party?” 

“Am I your psychiatrist or are we simply having conversations?” Hannibal countered. 

“I’m not very comfortable in social situations surrounded by strangers,” Will said, looking down. 

“Well, I’ll also be inviting Jack and his wife.  And my friend Alana, of course.  You know them.  I’d like all my friends to meet the team that finally rid our fair city of Casanova.” 

“You were a part of that team as well, Dr. Lecter,” Will reminded him. 

“I’d like to think I played some small part, but it was you who ultimately ended his reign of terror, Will.” 

“I’ll give it some thought,” he said, looking up at Hannibal through his lashes with a small smile.  “Good-night, Dr. Lecter.” 

“Good-night, Will.”  Hannibal said, closing the door behind him and feeling smug.  “Until we meet again,” he said softly to himself.  That had gone extremely well, he thought, walking over to his window and watching Will get into his car. 

*

That had gone extremely well, Will thought, as he got into his car, his mind racing with the new information he now had.  The session really _had_ been helpful as he had said, just not in the way Dr. Lecter imagined.  Will thought back to the meeting he’d had right before coming to his appointment with Dr. Lecter, and he revisited the details of that meeting in his mind.  

*     *     *

_Will’s Meeting Before Coming to Dr. Lecter’s Office_

Will opened the door to a small shop located in a high-end shopping area in downtown Baltimore and a bell over the door tinkled merrily as he walked in.  The scent in the air was spicy and rich, and the shop itself was quaint and beautifully set up.  A woman behind a counter, who was currently helping a customer, looked up at him and smiled and called out “Mr. Rouchel!” 

An older man came out from a back room at the call wearing a nice suit, which made Will feel immediately underdressed. 

“May I help you?” the elegant man said with a slightly French accent, giving Will a curious once over. 

“I’m Will Graham with the FBI.  We spoke on the phone earlier today.” 

“Oh, oui,” he said, some of his French coming through.  “I’ve been expecting you.  Follow me to the back please.” 

Will smiled at the woman as he followed Mr. Rouchel to the back room. 

The shop was called Patrizia Parfumerie, a place Will had found online that advertised they could custom blend a perfume or cologne to match your personality.  He had called earlier today and made an appointment with Jean-Claude Rochel, the owner of the shop and a master perfumer. 

Once they were in the back and seated at a table, Mr. Rouchel said, “So, what is it you need from me?” 

“As I told you on the phone,” Will said, “there was a scent at a crime scene that I’m hoping you can help me identify.  A man’s cologne to be more specific.” 

“How exciting to be helping with an FBI case!” Mr. Rouchel said.  “May I ask which case?” 

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.  But if you can help identify this particular fragrance, it may provide a very big clue,” he said. 

“I am ready,” he said, rubbing his hands together and looking eager. 

Will pulled a large Ziploc bag out of his jacket pocket and handed it over.  Mr. Rochel opened the bag and inhaled deeply, closing the bag immediately afterward to hold in the scent.  Will couldn’t help but notice that Mr. Rochel’s nose was a bit larger than normal and wondered if that was a trait that all master perfumers had. 

After sitting thoughtfully for several seconds Mr. Rochel opened the bag again and repeated his actions.  “Lovely,” he said finally.  “This scent has a raw ambergris base, and then I smell sandalwood, bergamot …” _sniff_ … “ah, patchouli, ylang ylang, with just a slight hint of jasmine I’m thinking.  It’s an unexpected and truly wonderful combination of scents,” he said, scenting the contents of the bag once more, appreciatively. 

Will finished writing down the ingredients in his little notepad and then looked up at the older man and said, “Is there any cologne on the market that you’re aware of that has all of these ingredients?”  

“Oh, no.  Especially not in this country.  Ambergris is a whale product banned in this country due to the Endangered Species Act.  A pity really as it adds such wonderful musky overtones to the cologne,” he said forlornly. 

“Where isn't it illegal?”

“Japan, of course.  A couple of places in Europe.  You'd almost certainly find it somewhere in Paris.  Rome.  Amsterdam.  But my guess is that this particular combination was made in a small, exclusive shop and hand-engineered to someone's specifications.  Someone with a very refined sense of smell.  This fragrance is truly remarkable.” 

Will nodded while finishing writing his notes.  “Yes.  Well thank you for your time, Mr. Rochel,” he said, taking back the bag.  “You have been exceedingly helpful.” 

“My pleasure,” he said, standing up to shake Will’s hand.  “You know, I could help you choose a scent that is perhaps a bit more suited to you that what you are currently wearing,” Mr. Rochel hinted delicately.    

“Perhaps another time,” Will said smiling, not at all insulted, as he turned and left.  He was wearing his regular scent and he had applied it a bit more liberally than usual in order to do a little fishing, so he wasn’t surprised that Mr. Rochel found it a bit overmuch.  

*     *     *

Will came back to the present.  He hadn’t forgotten about Dr. Lecter’s allergy to his cologne; in fact, he had worn it hoping Dr. Lecter would smell it and broach the subject so that he could inquire about the brand of cologne that Dr. Lecter himself wore without it seeming strange or suspicious. Custom blended.  It figured.  Will himself didn’t know the smell of sandalwood from drain cleaner, but that was the one ingredient he had remembered from Mr. Rochel’s list and had tossed it out in an effort to see if Dr. Lecter might divulge the rest of the ingredients his cologne was made from, and he had.  And it was an exact match to the ingredients that Mr. Rochel had named.  He had thought the scent was the same, he just needed to confirm it. 

After he had been discharged from the hospital he had asked to see Casanova’s body … or, rather, Detective Dimmond’s body.  He had wanted to see for himself the stab wounds that had killed the detective … stab wounds he was said to have made.  As the coroner had pulled the tray out of the freezer compartment Will had caught a slight whiff of a familiar fragrance.  After asking the coroner for a few minutes alone with the body, Will had examined the stab wounds while puzzling over the scent, which he knew was familiar but he couldn’t place it at the time.  Casanova had worn no scent; Abigail had confirmed that.  He had then scented the body from head to toe, and despite the blood on the body he had detected the scent on both of the detective’s hands, as well as other parts of his body.  Strange.    

He used tissues to wipe a couple areas on the body where the scent seemed strongest and put them in a baggie.  It came to him later that evening after picturing every man he had been in contact with recently who that scent belonged to.  After he realized who he associated the scent with, he had called the coroner to find out if Dr. Lecter had asked to see the body … and he had not.  And now the master perfumer he had met with confirmed that it was an exact match to the ingredients in Dr. Lecter’s cologne, a cologne that was custom blended and unique.  So the question now was how did Dr. Lecter’s custom blended cologne end up on Casanova’s naked flesh?  The first thing that had popped into his head was that Dr. Lecter had also been part of Casanova’s little rape club.  But the only fingerprints found in his lair were those of Detective Dimmond, Dr. Chilton, and those of the kidnapped victims.  Also, Dr. Chilton clearly seemed to despise Dr. Lecter. 

The only other explanation he could come up with was that the two men had had a physical altercation.  The scent had been strong on Casanova’s hands, so it was possible that Casanova had had his hands on Dr. Lecter’s throat, an area of the body where cologne is typically applied.  But when did he have this altercation and why?  Had he somehow tracked Casanova down and tried to help Will?  That might explain how he had managed to overpower and kill Casanova, because quite frankly after looking the man over there’s no way he should have been able to overpower and kill a man that big and that strong.  But if Dr. Lecter had helped him, why leave and keep it a secret?  And then there was the fact that Dr. Lecter had had a slight limp the day after when he visited him in the hospital.  Jack said he had pulled a muscle moving furniture, but that seemed like quite a coincidence.  No, something wasn’t adding up here.  He had felt there was something off about Dr. Lecter from the very beginning, had felt it in his gut.  Dr. Lecter had spent all that time with them, totally ignoring his practice and it just didn’t feel right.  It felt like he had had his own agenda going on.  Something else was definitely going on here. 

He had thought about going to Jack with the information, but then what exactly was he accusing Dr. Lecter of?  No, Jack thought Dr. Lecter was a saint so he needed to take this slow and see what else he could dig up on the good doctor before approaching Jack.  This is why he had agreed to the therapy, and this is why he would reluctantly but ultimately accept Dr. Lecter’s invitation to his dinner party.  It might give him a chance to snoop around while the doctor was occupied.  You just never knew what you might find hidden in someone’s basement. 

*

As Hannibal watched Will sitting in his car he realized that scenting him had been a rather forward thing to do, but he hadn’t been able to resist seeing if his encephalitis was still there—and it was, buried underneath that awful cologne, although it had been fainter.  Will admitted that he was on antibiotics for a _mild_ infection, so that means the encephalitis hadn’t been diagnosed while he was hospitalized.  The antibiotics would ease the symptoms of the encephalitis somewhat, which is probably why the scent wasn’t as strong as it was in Casanova’s lair, but encephalitis takes an aggressive course of antibiotics to get rid of it, so once he was done with his antibiotics the encephalitis would come back with a vengeance.  Good.  _Very_ good. 

*

Will looked down at his watch.  It was almost time for him to take his medication.  He had been diagnosed with encephalitis while he was in the hospital, which was the one good thing that had come out of all this.  It had explained the fevers, the headaches, and the nightmares he’d been having over the last several months.  The MRI had showed that half of his brain was partially consumed with it.  Even after putting him on an antibiotic IV drip for 24 hours he still had to take two pills three times a day for the next month, and the doctor told him he needed to be diligent about it.  He hadn’t shared that with Jack, and he sure as hell wasn’t sharing it with Dr. Lecter.  He didn’t want anyone imagining that his thinking was compromised in any way.  The headaches were less frequent now, as were the nightmares, which was good because he had been having some doozies lately where the Chesapeake Ripper kept sending him body parts with red bows wrapped around them.  Then there were the ones where he and his dad were fighting Casanova and both of them ended up stabbing him over and over … only sometimes his dad turned into Dr. Lecter.  Could there be some truth hidden in that dream?  There was no way to know for sure.  He was so frustrated that he couldn’t remember anything that happened that night. 

*

Hannibal could tell that Will was frustrated at not being able to remember what happened in Casanova’s lair and wondered if he would be able to talk him into letting him hypnotize him in order to supposedly help bring his missing memories to the surface.  If he could convince him to let him hypnotize him, that would help move things along nicely. 

*

Although Will wished he could remember exactly what happened down in Casanova’s lair, one thing was for certain, he would not be letting Dr. Lecter hypnotize him.  He did not want this man in his head until he figured out just exactly what he was and what was going on with him. 

*

Hannibal remembered the tantalizing way Will had been rubbing his finger over his lower lip while he had sat deep in thought.  If Will would agree to letting him hypnotize him, maybe he could take advantage of it in order to sample those lips, something he knew was going to take quite a bit of time to work up to, even with what he had planned.  But with Will hypnotized he could take certain liberties, and the man in question would never know. 

*

Will had discovered something else unexpected about Dr. Lecter.  He had rubbed his finger over his lower lip on purpose to see if what Casanova had told him in his motel room was true or not.  Casanova had said that Dr. Lecter watched him, tracked him with his eyes, indicating that Casanova thought that Dr. Lecter was interested in him.  He hadn’t believed him, but it would appear that he was right.  Dr. Lecter was exceptionally good at hiding his emotions, but Will had dropped his shields completely the whole time he was with Dr. Lecter hoping to pick something up, and he had picked up a quick spike of desire that was quickly reeled in and buried when he’d played with his lip.  If Will hadn’t been specifically looking for it he would have missed it.  So, Casanova was right and it turns out Dr. Lecter had more than just a clinical interest in him.  Will had to admit that he had never questioned his own sexuality before this case.  He was a guy and he liked girls…period.  If other guys had been interested in him before this case, he had never been aware of it.  But considering the fact that Detective Dimmond, Dr. Chilton, Dr. Lecter, and possibly even the Chesapeake Ripper all had taken an interest in him during the course of just two weeks…what did that say about him?  But more concerning was the type of men he seemed to be attracting.  All of a sudden it’s like he’s a bad boy magnet attracting killers and rapists and who knows what else.  It was disconcerting to say the least. 

He felt a headache coming on.  He had too many random facts floating around in his head right now.  Besides the many questions surrounding Dr. Lecter, he had the Chesapeake Ripper case on his mind.  How is it that the Ripper struck so soon after Casanova’s death?  How did the Ripper track down Dr. Chilton?  How did the Ripper get his hands on that same string that Casanova used so that he could incorporate it into his design?  Wouldn’t it be ironic if the Ripper also worked for the Baltimore P.D.?  He was definitely going to examine Detective Dolarhyde’s past with a fine tooth comb.  Why is it that the Ripper tied a bow around Dr. Chilton’s heart?  Was it left for him?  Why was it that when Dr. Lecter mentioned a dinner party he felt strange, like there was something he was forgetting?  All these facts kept moving around in his head looking for connections.  His head felt like one of those machines at the casino where you pull the lever and the pictures spin around and around and if you can just get the pictures to stop and line up you’ll hit the jackpot.  He felt it in his gut that at least a few of these things that were floating around in his brain might fit together if he could just step back and see the design.  But he also had a feeling that he was missing the one major piece that would make everything else fall into place.  If he could just figure out what that was. 

So he would keep studying the Ripper case and he would continue going to his sessions with Dr. Lecter and playing the shy, troubled profiler because he got the feeling that Dr. Lecter liked being the one in control.  And he would attend his dinner party and hopefully find an opportunity to look around.  If Dr. Lecter did have something to hide he would find it, then he would go to Jack with what he had and let Jack reel him in.  Will was a good fisherman and the crafty ones were always hard to land, but well worth the time and the effort.  Will realized he had been sitting in the car for a couple of minutes now not moving.  He looked up and saw that Dr. Lecter was watching him through the window. 

*

As Hannibal looked down at Will he was thinking that since Will was his last client of the day he could go up to his bedroom now and hang his newest piece of art.  Ironically he had Casanova to thank for this particular piece.  It was a framed print of “Fallen Angel” by Roberto Ferri, the same picture that was on the postcard that Casanova had left in Will’s room.  He’d had it shipped over from Italy.  He would enjoy looking at while he lay in bed, not only for the wonderful memories that it evoked from this case, but also because of how much it looked like Will in a pose of complete and utter surrender.  He hoped to see the real thing in a similar pose in the not too distant future. 

*

Will started his car quickly and waved at Dr. Lecter as he pulled away. 

*

_You’re mine, Will Graham,_ Hannibal thought  … 

*

_You're mine, Dr. Lecter_ , Will thought …

*

          … _you just don’t know it yet …_  

*

… _and whatever it is you're hiding I'll figure it out, and if you're guilty of something you won’t even see me coming …_

_*_

… _but you will soon enough_ , they both thought together, one smiling with confidence, the other frowning with determination. 

They both went their separate ways, getting on with their evenings, but visions of the other kept invading their thoughts as each imagined what their next steps would be and what the possible outcomes would be.  But they obviously had vastly different designs in mind.    

 

[](http://imgbox.com/OhOYZgNL)

 

- End of (my) Season 1 -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my Hannibal S1/Kiss the Girls fusion. I want to thank all of you who followed along with the story these past few weeks and supported me with encouraging comments and kudos. I noticed many of you checked out my other stories as well, and that was extremely flattering, so thank you for that. I’m not planning to write a sequel to this story, but I do have a couple other story ideas, so maybe you’ll see me again in a few months. Thank you all again. This is EvilAdmin, out.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [ART - The COLLECTOR](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12353505) by [jazzy2may](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzy2may/pseuds/jazzy2may)




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